


The Boss's Daughter

by ShyneAnon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Mafiafell, Alternate Universe- Mobfell, F/M, Gangsters, MF Sans is an idiot, Mobfell, No Smut, Poor MF Papyrus I feel so bad for him, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Self-Insert, in the best way, mafiafell, sans x reader, sfw, this was a one-shot but it continued lol, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyneAnon/pseuds/ShyneAnon
Summary: The lonely daughter of a mob boss meets two very strange gangster skeletons.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 90
Kudos: 191





	1. Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> I love Mafiafell/Reader but a lot of the time Reader is someone who doesn't have even a fraction of the power or wealth that the MF bros have. Which is still fun to read, but I wanted to change things up and make her someone who grew up in the criminal world. She'd be a lot harder for the mobsters to impress lol

When you arrived at the party, you put a smile on your face. It was as much an accessory as the necklace you were wearing. You weren’t even quite sure what the party was for. A successful business endeavor between multiple crime families, you knew that, but your father never really liked to tell you the details of said endeavors.

Your parents weren’t watching your every move-- you were an adult-- so you allowed yourself to wander and pay attention to… anything but the people here. The art on the walls, the decor… Anything  _ but _ them. You knew your parents were bringing you along to these parties to find a potential husband, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go start a conversation with anyone. You didn’t want anything to do with them. You hated the criminal lifestyle-- you wanted to marry out of it, not into it. So when you realized there was a large terrace, you gladly ran out, to get away from the stifling air of false smiles, veiled threats and blatant lies.

The air outside was much fresher and crisper, and the terrace gave you a nice view of the city. This was so much better. You even felt a smile creep onto your face as you removed your gloves.

Sometimes, when you watched movies or read books about young women your age, you wondered if their freedom was exaggerated. Or if the goodness of the men they met was exaggerated. Probably, to an extent. After all, nothing that makes money is entirely honest. You’d learned that very early on. But you always wondered what it felt like to go to a gathering of friends and not feel the underlying tension that you always felt. In your world, everyone looked out for themselves. You knew the people at this party would gladly blow each other’s brains out if they knew they could gain something from it. Sure, they had their  _ ethics _ and their  _ deals _ and their  _ values _ , but those could easily be bent and twisted to justify almost anything they did.

You envied those girls. They didn’t have the money your family had, but they had real friends. Real loved ones. Real men who really cared about them.

You didn’t think of yourself as a romantic, but you knew you would have to get married eventually. If only you could find someone who would actually love you, even in this hellhole.

The doors to the terrace were thrown open behind you, but you didn’t so much as start. You were accustomed to loud noises.

“Fuckin’ need a smoke, this party is a buncha bullshit.”

_ Ugh. _ Great. This had been your one place of refuge and now some drunken idiot had stumbled into it. You looked over to see who exactly had barged in on your retreat.

You blinked when you realized how  _ large _ he was, and again when you realized he wasn’t human. His hands were lighting a cigar, and you could tell that they were nothing but bone. A monster. You’d met monsters before, so you weren’t afraid (at least, not for that reason), but you had never seen a skeleton before. He didn’t even seem to realize you were here, since he had headed for the other end of the terrace. You were much smaller than him, so you were sure his eyes had looked you over easily. If he had eyes. You couldn’t quite see his face, the brim of his hat was hiding it.

He was still grumbling to himself as he tucked his lighter back into his pocket and placed his cigar between two sets of extremely sharp teeth. From the way the moonlight glinted off one tooth, you could tell it was made of metal. Probably gold. He didn’t have  _ eyes _ , per se, but he had little lights in his eye sockets that glowed a crimson color.

You realized that those lights were now looking directly at you.

“Oh, shit, how long’ve you been here for?” asked the stranger. He had an extremely deep voice that almost seemed to roll through the air, like thunder.

Well, he wasn’t saying anything mean, but if he was at this party he was no good, so you started to put on your gloves again. “Longer than you.”

For some reason, he chuckled. “Woulda been out here sooner if I knew this terrace was here. This party’s the worst, right?”

You had been turning to go, but you stopped. He wasn’t supposed to say that-- that the party wasn’t fun. That would be rude. But he hadn’t cared. Maybe he had an unrefined reason for thinking it was unpleasant. Maybe he just wanted more booze, or wished there were strippers here... but whatever it was, he hadn’t given you some garbage excuse for being out here with you.

You decided to test the waters. “It’s… not fun.”

“Boy, you sure are polite about it.” He snorted (odd, considering he didn’t have lungs). “Everybody’s so goddamn fake ‘round here. Can’t have any real fun.” He smiled, raising a brow. “What’s yer name, dollface?”

You told him. You expected him to bring up your father, but he didn’t.

“Nice. Name’s Sans.”

Oh. You’d heard of him. “You have a brother,” you said, “right?”

“Yeah. Real buzzkill, though. He’s still inside, chattin’ people up.” His toothy grin widened. “Fancies himself a real ladykiller.”

“Literally or figuratively?” you asked with a small smile. Sans let out a laugh.

“Nah, figuratively. He’d never lay a hand on a lady. ‘N neither would I.”

_ They all say that. _

“Unless… you  _ want _ me to lay hands on ya.”

You blinked several times. His eyes were lidded. Did he not know who your father was? He could have him shot dead for talking to you like this. Then again, this man didn’t seem to have the highest IQ.

“You look real nice in that dress,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you said curtly. You didn’t want to turn around and go back into the party-- you hated it there-- and you figured Sans wouldn’t let it escalate much farther. He was a monster, not a human skeleton. He could still die if your father ordered it.

Wait, when had he gotten right in front of you? 

“Y’know,” he said in his baritone voice, “nobody’s lookin’ for ya. Seems like we’ll be alone for a while.”

“Are you suggesting something?” you responded, trying to look unfazed. You were fazed, though. Most men were too scared to try anything like this on you. And for good reason. It could get them killed. And this man was just so… big. You had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

“Maybe.”

He leaned close to you, and you frowned.

“Your breath smells like alcohol and cigar smoke,” you told him.  _ Gross. _ Like you’d want to get intimate with him anyway, much less with his mouth smelling like that.

That didn’t deter him. “Yeah? Sorry about that.”

His head was practically in the crook of your neck now. He inhaled sharply.

“You smell  _ good _ ,” he growled, like a wolf smelling a helpless bunny.

You realized you were leaning against the railing of the terrace and that his hands were grabbing the railing on either side of you. This would absolutely  _ horrify _ your parents.

_ Hmm. _

_ It would horrify your parents. _

Maybe… just to spite them…

You stepped a little closer to Sans, who immediately wrapped an arm around your waist. You resisted the slight urge to move away.

“Ah, dollface,” Sans purred. “You smell so good…. I could just eat ya….”

His sharp teeth started to trail along your neck. Was this a kiss? He didn’t have lips, so you weren’t sure.

“Maybe,” he said softly, “you an’ I could get away from this awful party… An’ I could show ya a good time elsewhere….”

_ He can’t be serious. _ You squinted. “Get away? We can’t just walk out the door.”

“Don’t have to,” he responded; he was so close your nose was brushing against his nasal bone. He smirked. “I can show ya how, if you want me to.”

You were curious… But unfortunately, you assumed that if you said yes, he would also take that as a yes to the sex he was obviously proposing. And you definitely didn’t want that. How would you even…? No, you didn’t even want to know.

He pressed his teeth right against the corner of your mouth. Definitely a kiss. You felt annoyed when your face got hot.

“C’mon, doll.” He already sounded excited. “I can show ya all  _ kinds _ of new things--”

“SANS! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?!”

He immediately backed away from you at the sound of the more shrill voice. You could feel that your face was on fire. Whoever it was probably thought you had been happily reciprocating….

You looked over to see a second skeleton, somehow taller than the first, but a lot thinner. He had some sort of scar across his left eye. Your cynicism returned (strange, it was like time-- and your brain-- had slowed down a few moments ago) and you had to wonder what sour business deal he’d gotten that mark from.

He was glowering at Sans. This had to be his brother. Papyrus was his name, right? Like the parchment the ancient Egyptians used to write on.

“Uh,” was all that came out of Sans’ mouth.  _ So eloquent. _ You actually felt kind of ashamed you’d let someone with  _ his _ level of intelligence go as far as he had. And just to spite your parents? What were you, five?

“DO YOU  _ KNOW _ WHOSE DAUGHTER SHE IS?”

Sans looked over at you. “I mean, no.” He grinned with those sharp teeth again. “I only care ‘bout who she calls Daddy.”

Your face got hot again... which embarrassed you… which only made your face hotter.

“THE POOR THING!” said Papyrus. “YOU’VE ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED HER!”

“That’s embarrassment yer lookin’ at, Paps, not fear.” His tone darkened a little. “We’ve both seen fear.”

Nobody said things like that either. Not at a gathering like this, and definitely not in front of women. You were pretty sure his disregard for the etiquette of this society was just due to sheer stupidity, but it was refreshing. As thick as he was, he was at least honest.

Well, not really. Just more honest than everyone else here. Surely he had some skeletons in his closet as well.

_ Hah… skeletons in his closet. _ You tried to fight back a smile. Unfortunately, it was noticed by both brothers.

Sans sounded amused. “Whatcha laughin’ at, babe?”

“Nothing,” you said, but since you couldn’t bite your lip your smile was fully visible.

“Like hell. What’s so funny?”

“SANS!” said Papyrus. “LANGUAGE!”

You said, “It might offend you.” The last thing you wanted to do was offend a mobster of any sort. Even if you were basically untouchable.

“S’long as you ain’t callin’ me fat, we’re good.” He winked. “I ain’t fat, I’m just big- _ boned _ .”

Your smile widened, much to your chagrin.

“SANS!”

“What? She likes it. Now tell me your joke, honey.”

You still weren’t sure if this was a good idea, but he’d asked. “I was just thinking that you both have some…  _ skeletons _ in your closet.” With an embarrassed smile-- Sans’ grin was contagious-- you softly tapped your fingers against the air and said, “Ba-dum tsssss.”

Papyrus looked aghast, but Sans beamed and started to laugh.

“God, sweetheart, yer the only person at this party who’s any real fun.” He put his hand on your shoulder, though it was in a friendly manner. “Everybody else here has a stick up their ass!”

Papyrus didn’t even yell for him to shut up. It was too late, Sans’ voice had a way of reverberating throughout the room and everyone had heard. They were all staring at the three of you. Everything was quiet. You realized that even you were horrified; your hands were over your mouth. Or maybe it was secondhand embarrassment.

For some reason, Sans didn’t quit laughing, even when there was no way he couldn’t have noticed everyone else watching. In fact… Was he laughing  _ harder _ now that people were staring? Papyrus looked like he wanted to murder his brother right there on the spot, but he did his best to save face.

“I… I APOLOGIZE FOR MY BROTHER’S BEHAVIOR, HE IS VERY, VERY DRUNK.”

_ Yeah, right. _ Sans wasn’t even wobbling on his feet, at most he was a bit tipsy.

Papyrus put his hand on your shoulder, the one Sans hadn’t touched. “I’M SORRY IF HE BOTHERED YOU AT ALL.”

Sans was horrible, and a complete moron, but… you liked him? For some reason. So you said, “Oh no, he didn’t. He was a gentleman.”

Papyrus obviously didn’t believe it, but he looked relieved that you had said so. “WELL, GOOD! AT LEAST HE WAS TREATING YOU WELL! HE IS ALWAYS… SO NICE TO LADIES.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing at Papyrus’ exasperation.

You felt a hand on your arm-- a human one-- and your mother pulled you back away from the brothers.

“You’re sure he was nice to you?” she asked.

Well, you were already lying-- and it was kind of funny-- so you decided you may as well commit. “He was  _ really _ nice to me. He told me I looked beautiful and he lent me his jacket so that I could keep warm.” You stopped yourself there, before you went too far and made him out to be Prince Charming himself. You glanced over and saw that Papyrus had a brow raised in confusion, while Sans had a brow raised in interest.

“I should hope he did.”

That was your father.  _ Oh boy. _ Even Papyrus looked nervous. Sans seemed to recognize that you were saving his ass, because while you suspected he didn’t care, he looked like he did.

“You have a wonderful daughter, sir.” He beamed. “Smart ‘n funny.”

He was lucky he’d appealed to your father correctly. He always told you that you were smart, so anyone who said the same thing immediately gained at least some respect from him.

“Very,” was all your father said in response.

Papyrus stammered, “I… I SHOULD TAKE MY BROTHER HOME, BEFORE HIS  _ VERY INEBRIATED _ STATE DOES ANYONE ANY MORE HARM.”

“Good idea,” said Sans. “After one last drink.”

“NO!”

Papyrus grabbed Sans by the back of his shirt, like a mother cat picking up its kitten, and started to drag him off. Sans gave you one last smile.

“Nice meetin’ ya, sweetheart. Hope I see ya again.”

You waved a little, trying to look as innocent as possible with your parents there. You bit the insides of your cheeks to keep from smiling too wide.

“His poor brother,” said your mother. Well, at least she didn’t hate both of them. “I can’t imagine having to take care of a grown man.” A smile. “Oh, wait. I already do that.”

Your father snorted. “Ha, ha.” He smiled at you. “Sorry about that, Princess. When we said we wanted you to meet men we did  _ not _ mean him.”

A small pang of worry came over you. “You’re… not going to hurt him, right? He was nice to me.” You’d lied for a reason. Sans was an idiot, but he seemed like a pretty harmless idiot in the end. Or, harmless for a mobster, anyway.

Right?

“You mean it?” said your father.

“Yes, absolutely.” He hadn’t been  _ mean. _ Just… very forward.

“Alright. I won’t hurt him, then.”

Your mother gestured further inside. “Come with us. We met a very nice young man who thought you sounded wonderful.”

Immediately, you felt your mood sour again. “Right.”

As they led you across the room, you found yourself already wishing that the brothers were still here.

  
  



	2. Lunch Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus' warnings did not have the intended effect. Your resolution to forget about Sans fails in about 0.5 seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People liked my one-shot, so I've decided to make it a longer story! Keep in mind that the rating of this story may increase later. There won't be any smut, but there might end up being violence because... y'know. The mob. Anyway, happy reading!

* * *

**Sans**

* * *

Your father was an unforgiving man.

As kind as he was to you and your mother, when he went to work, he became a different person. He did not tolerate failure, he did not tolerate deceit, and he did not tolerate disrespect. It was no wonder that he had become one of the richest and most powerful mob bosses in the city. People feared him.

And thus, they feared you.

He called you  _ Princess _ for a reason. You were very much his princess. And there was no mobster in the city who didn’t know the consequences of making a wrong move around you. If he saw a man as a threat against his daughter-- whether physically, emotionally, or otherwise-- that man was as good as dead. And your father’s definition of a threat was a bit loose. He was a very jealous man. Every gangster knew that.

Well, Sans hadn’t, until Papyrus had gone on a tirade about it at him.

Truth be told, it hadn’t really scared Sans much at all. It was difficult to scare him-- though whether that was because he was tough or stupid, he wasn’t sure. Though it did make him view your encounter through a new lens. When he’d spoken with you, he’d had no idea you were such… forbidden fruit.

Unfortunately for Papyrus, whose…  _ suggestion _ … was reasonable, telling Sans that you were a literal danger to him had only made you more desirable to him. It was that thrill that causes even the best of people to date partners who are bad for them: The feeling of playing with fire, of doing something despite knowing it was bad for you. You were so pretty, and you had been so much fun, but if he’d known all of this before, the spark of electricity he’d felt at being close to you would’ve felt like a thousand-volt shock. To think that he had held someone virtually unattainable-- had gone so far as to kiss your neck and the corner of your lips-- and come out of it alive?

Hell, now he just wanted to do it again.

Since he had nothing better to do with his time (well, he did, he just liked  _ not _ doing what he was supposed to be doing), he’d eventually asked some of his men how much anyone even knew about you, if you were so heavily protected. Surprisingly, quite a bit, because your father liked to talk about you a  _ lot _ . According to him, you were very intelligent. That didn’t surprise Sans at all, it had been pretty obvious. Well, sort of. It had been this look behind your eyes. Like you were always observing things, assessing them. No doubt you were unused to being hit on and yet you had remained cool and collected.

_ Heh. _ Maybe you’d make for a good mob boss yourself.

Your father even claimed that you helped with the business sometimes. The record-keeping and number-crunching, anyway. He didn’t like telling you  _ exactly _ what your beloved daddy was doing during business hours.

It was funny how many small details had stuck with Sans’ men (and probably many others). You were just such an enigma that any information your father threw out was like a piece of a very large puzzle. You liked dancing, although you’d never actually been out dancing before. Papa was too worried about boys hitting on you. You did go out sometimes, with some friend of yours, but only during the day, and only to high-end spaces where the chances of a guy trying to put moves on you were low. An odd detail: You liked little chocolates, particularly the ones with cherry filling. Sans could vividly picture you gently biting into one, the filling as red as those soft lips. Dangerous lips that spelled death for anyone who dared to come near them.

You were just so off-limits that all you did was rile Sans up when he thought about you.

His mind raced with  _ What if _ s.  _ What if _ he had just taken the opportunity to kiss you right there?  _ What if _ you had agreed to his offer to show you how he could get around without being seen?  _ What if _ he had been able to bring you somewhere private… and take away that innocence your father had worked so painstakingly hard to preserve?

_ Heheh.  _ You would’ve been calling out  _ “Daddy,” _ but you wouldn’t have meant--

“I heard that guy Acerbi is after her.”

“Acerbi? Don Acerbi?”

“No, you idiot, his son.”

Sans was snapped out of his incredibly racy daydream. “Huh? Who?”

Vinnie answered his question. “Adolfo Acerbi, Boss. The Acerbi family’s territory is right around--”

“I don’t care about that, whaddaya mean he’s after her?”

Don answered that. “Y’know, he wants to marry her. She’s an only child, so if he married ‘er, once her dad croaked he’d end up being the heir to their whole business.”

“Fuck, you serious?”

“Yeah. And for now it’d unite the families ‘n such. All that mafia stuff.”

Sans felt a surge of jealousy, even though he knew it was unwarranted. You didn’t belong to him-- well, you didn’t belong to anyone, you were your own person, even if your father wanted you to be his. Still, Sans wasn’t your boyfriend, he had no real right to feel jealous over you. Especially not the level of jealousy he was feeling right now.

But the objective truth couldn’t change the way he felt.

“Hey, Boss,” said Vinnie. “Didn’tcha say you were gonna talk with someone today?”

He was startled out of his thoughts again and checked his watch. “Oh, shit.” He got up. At least he wouldn’t be late. “Thanks, Vinnie.”

“Oh, uh, no problem, Boss.”

* * *

**You**

* * *

“Was he nice?” asked Mindy.

“Of course,” you told her. “He was in front of my dad.”

The two of you were sitting in a small but very expensive cafe and deli, immaculately clean and filled with people in nice dress. It was always nice to be with her, for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, she was your friend. You simply enjoyed her company.

Secondly, the cat monster was your window to the outside world.

While she was wealthy-- most monsters were after having left the Underground-- Mindy didn’t know where your father actually got his money. She was a civilian. Unlike you, she’d gone to college, and she’d been on dates with lots of boys. Ironically, despite being a monster, she knew a certain kind of freedom you’d never known. Mindy actually got around quite a bit, though you didn’t mind that. It was part of what made her interesting. She was wild, so she had a lot of fun stories.

At the moment, though, you were the one telling her a story, about the “nice young man” you’d met at the party. Adolfo Acerbi. Italian, obviously. Your parents had taken quite a liking to him, and you could understand why: He seemed well-educated, he was polite, and he had only said the sweetest of things to you.

You hated him already.

It was all fake. You could tell. He did a good job of hiding it from your parents but it was fairly obvious to you what was going on. You had no brothers. If he could just weasel his way into your father’s favor and wed you, then he could sit atop an empire made of  _ two _ families’ blood, greed and arrogance. And you would be stuck right there with him. It was a no from you, but unlike Mindy, you didn’t really have any say in the matter. Mafia princesses were called princesses for a reason.

But you couldn’t tell Mindy all of that. She didn’t know where your family got their money. So all you said was, “He just wants my dad’s money.”

“Aw, honey, maybe you’re just being paranoid.” Mindy smiled at you. “Love exists, you know.”

You snorted. “I know that. It’s just… he’s sweet, but… too sweet? Too romantic.”

“Mmm, like he rehearsed it or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, those boys are the worst.” She shrugged. “Oh well. You don’t have to date him if you don’t want to.”

_ If only. _

You considered telling her about the encounter with Sans and Papyrus-- she’d be bound to find it entertaining-- but you had the feeling that if you did she would just keep teasing you about Sans. Besides, she didn’t need to know anything about mobsters who didn’t really have anything to do with you. Your father didn’t do business with the skeleton brothers, as far as you knew, and chances were you would never speak with them again. Sans wasn’t worth mentioning.

But fate is a cruel mistress, and no sooner had you dismissed any thoughts of Sans than a large shape emerged in your periphery. Near the doorway. The shape was unmistakable.

Sans had been fun. Too fun. As much as you wanted  _ someone _ in the underbelly of society to make you smile, you didn’t need it. If you had  _ fun _ , you would forget just how bad your world was, and you would quit wanting to leave. You didn’t need to speak to him any more.

“What are you doing?” asked Mindy.

You realized you had ducked down and held up your menu in hopes of hiding your face. You wanted to relax, but you really didn’t need to talk to him anymore. “Nothing,” you said, though you knew she wouldn’t believe you.

“Oh my God, is it him?” She started to look around unabashedly.

“N-- no, it’s not Acerbi.”

“Not Acerbi-- Wait, is there somebody else? Is that why you don’t like Acerbi?” Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oooooh, there’s a boy you haven’t told me about.”

“No, it’s not like that!” you said. But you couldn’t explain, it had everything to do with your world, and she couldn’t know about your world.

“Oh  _ my _ , are you blushing?”

“What? No.” Your face didn’t even feel warm.

“Don’t lie to me, I can see it. Your face is  _ so _ red.”

Well, now your face  _ was _ warm. Mindy beamed.  _ Thanks a lot, Mindy. _

“Hey there, dollface. Fancy seein’ you here.”

_ … Fuck. _

You lowered the menu. You didn’t have to look for him; Sans’ shape on your left blocked out everything else nearby. You tried to ignore the burning on your face and smiled politely. “Hello, Mr. Sans.”

“Hey, sweetheart, I toldja last night, ya can call me Sans.”

You saw Mindy’s eyes widen.  _ Last night, no she’s getting the wrong impression, no no Mindy it’s not like that I didn’t have sex with him I didn’t I don’t even know how we would do that I just met him at a party-- _

You forced your mind to stop racing. “Right. Sans. Is there anything you need?”

“Just to talk to you, doll.” He winked. His smile was so genuine, so goofy despite the sharp teeth. You felt the corners of your mouth turning up and bit the insides of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling any more.  _ You’re just making this worse, jackass…. _

His voice lowered:

“What’s with the red face? Happy to see me?”

You tried to ignore your face getting hotter. “M… My friend here was embarrassing me about something.” Good, a distraction. You gestured to Mindy. “Um, Sans, this is my good friend Mindy. Mindy, this is Sans, my… um…”

Sans raised a brow. “Aww. Tellin’ me we ain’t friends?”

_ Oh my God, did he learn  _ anything _ from last night? _

“... friend,” you finished. “My friend, Sans.”

Mindy wasn’t buying it even though it was  _ the truth. _ “Oh, of course. Your  _ friend. _ ” She wiggled her eyebrows. Still, she gave Sans a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, sweetheart.” His grin widened. “You look like the  _ cat’s _ pajamas.” A wink. “Absolutely  _ purr _ fect.”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted, which only made Sans look more enthusiastic. You tried to hide your face again.

Mindy raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh my, aren’t you a charmer?”

He tipped the brim of his hat. “Sure, to the women I want.” His eyelights looked over at you and he winked.

You glared at him, openly this time.  _ You are such a moron. You could literally  _ die _. For doing this. _ You couldn’t defend him forever.

His smile became slightly nervous. Finally, he was getting the message. Why did he have to be so thick? ~~And funny?~~

“So,” said Mindy, “why are you here? You’re not stalking my friend, are you? Stalking isn’t romantic, you know.”

He chuckled. “Nah. I can’t actually talk fer too long, I’m here tah meet a, uh… business associate.”

Mindy smiled incredulously. “ _ Business associate? _ What are you, part of the mob?”

You forced yourself to snicker at that, as if the idea was ridiculous. Sans blinked, looking mildly surprised-- he’d probably expected Mindy to know. Thankfully, he recovered quickly. “I wish. It’d be more exciting.” He turned back to you. “I also wanted to give you an offer.”

He nodded in the direction of the doorway and you squinted at him. You weren’t going to leave with him. Was he  _ that _ stupid?

“I jus’ wanna talk over there.”

You raised an eyebrow, and felt your thumb fiddling with your menu. You didn’t need to speak with him… but you were curious. So you got up and followed him, still inside, by the door.

He dug around in his pocket. “Last night was nice.”

“Which part?” you asked coldly.

“All of it, babe, yer fun to talk to.” He pulled out his wallet and started going through it. “I was thinkin’ I’d like to talk to ya again, if ya ever want.”

He found what he was looking for and held up what was clearly a fake business card for whatever civilian job he claimed to have. He held it out to you.

“If ya ever need anythin’... like, y’know, company… jus’ give me or Paps a call, huh?”

You just stared. What on Earth was his problem? He could easily go flirt with someone whose father  _ wouldn’t _ have him shot for it.

“C’mon, babe, you were fun. I don’t meet a lotta fun people.” He held it out further. “Please?”

His pleading smile  ~~ was ~~ seemed so genuine.

_ Whatever.  _ You smiled politely, taking the card. “Thanks. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

Judging from the look on his face, he could tell you didn’t mean it. He seemed… disappointed.

~~You felt disappointed too.~~ _Good._

He tipped the brim of his hat again. “Anyway, I’ll let you two ladies keep talking. It was nice seein’ you again.”

“Nice seeing you,” you said.

When you made your way back to the table and sat down, Mindy folded her arms. “So.  _ Mister Sans _ , huh?”

“It’s not like that,” you said.

“‘ _ Sure, to the women I want _ ,’” she said, doing her best impression of Sans’ deep, smooth voice. She then raised her eyebrows at you as if daring you to offer an explanation.

“We met at the same party where I met Adolfo,” you said. “He flirted with me, and I turned him down.” You left out the part where you let him hold you and… kiss you. The spot at the corner of your lip that he’d kissed suddenly felt tingly. It had probably been the most rebellious thing you’d ever done, despite how much you hated the lifestyle you’d been born into.

“You  _ what? _ ” Mindy said, almost slamming her hands down on the table in outrage. “ _ Why? _ ”

“Because I don’t like him. He’s probably the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

“Ouch,” she said. “Harsh.” She sighed in mock disappointment. “What a shame. His name is so short. Easy to moan.”

You felt a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “Why don’t you just go sleep with him if you find him so appealing?”

“Nuh-uh. I smell a budding romance.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “An intelligent girl, wooed by an unlikely man. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“That will never happen in a million--”

“Ooh, ooh, before I forget to tell you! Next weekend this…  _ club _ I know…” She gave you a wink. You knew what that meant-- a speakeasy. “... is having a swing night. You told me you’ve never gone dancing before. We should go!”

You felt your heart sink, the previous conversation instantly forgotten. You shook your head. “My parents wouldn’t let me.” Too many boys.

“Then sneak out. Easy fix.”

“N… No.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Just ask, OK? Please?”

You nodded. “... OK.”

“Thank you.” She looked at the card in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, just some stupid card he gave me with his number.” You turned it over in your hand.

“Mmmm, his number. You gonna keep it?”

“I already said I don’t like him, why would I keep his number?”

You grabbed your purse. Trying not to make eye contact with Mindy, you tilted the bag towards you so that she wouldn’t see the small pistol inside, and tucked the card into a pocket inside the purse. You tried to seem nonchalant about it, but when you looked at Mindy again she was wearing a massive, smug grin on her face.

“I’m going to throw it away when I get home,” you told her.

“Riiiight.” She took a sip of her water. “Of course.”

“I  _ am _ ,” you insisted. You just didn’t want to toss it anywhere. But you told yourself you were going to throw it away.

You didn’t.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a bit of a slow chapter, but I needed to set up some stuff. Things get more interesting next chapter. You'll also meet Adolfo very soon, I promise.
> 
> Also, I have [a tumblr](https://shyneanon.tumblr.com). I do art and stuff. Jussayin'.


	3. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, he's back. But he may actually be of some use to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad people are enjoying this story! And Sans' stupidity. He doesn't get any better this chapter.

Once your lunch date with Mindy was over, the both of you walked back to your house and gave each other a goodbye hug. When you went inside, your parents asked you how it was and you told them it was good, leaving out any details about Sans or Mindy’s teasing (though you often had to omit details about Mindy’s sense of humor). You then gently and carefully brought up the subject of going dancing, leaving out that the place was a speakeasy, and you humbly asked for their permission to go.

They said yes.

You were so thrilled you threw your arms around your father and thanked him profusely, which seemed to convince him that he had made the right decision.

Mindy was ecstatic when you called her and told her you’d been given permission. She insisted that you should get yourself a new dress for your first time out, and you had to admit, you didn’t mind that idea. So you agreed to join each other for a shopping date on Friday.

Unfortunately, her parents dragged her into some social meeting of their own at the last minute, meaning you’d be doing your shopping by yourself. Perhaps it was for the best; knowing Mindy, she would probably have tried to convince you to buy something more scandalous than you would like to wear. The flappers’ dresses were very cute, but you weren’t sure how eager you were to sparkle so much. Not to mention that your father would rather burn the money for it than allow you to wear it. Instead you would look for something a bit less flashy.

Being out without anyone, even Mindy, felt liberating. You were shocked your father had allowed it— although it was in the middle of the day, and you were being driven to the destinations you chose. He wasn’t about to let you walk around town completely unsupervised. Rival gangsters _did_ know what you looked like.

Eventually you found a dress you enjoyed; it was form-fitting, but not so much that there would be protests. It was also a nice bright blue, with darker blue sequins adorning it in a very pretty design all across the front and back. It was a nice balance between the flashy flapper dresses and the more boring, grown-up dresses you wore for formal gatherings. It took you a few tries to find the right size, but once you did, it fit very nicely. So you purchased it and left. You had to admit, the feeling of being able to splurge was quite nice.

You would miss it when you finally left the horrible environment you’d been raised in.

You decided to step outside and enjoy the relatively fresh air, sitting down on a bench. You kept imagining how amazing it would be to be somewhere where your father wouldn’t be able to see you. Just you, having fun as an adult with Mindy. Drinking alcohol, dancing… There would be boys there. Probably boys who weren’t criminals at all— besides drinking bootleg liquor, anyway.

Some of them probably didn’t even know how to use a gun.

_Swoon._

A pigeon started to make its way past you, eyeing you suspiciously. You snickered, your worries forgotten for a brief moment. If only you had some sort of food on you to give it. Not that it didn’t look well-fed— it was a particularly fat pigeon.

You wondered what it was like to have worked for what you had.

The pigeon suddenly started as a pair of only mostly-polished black business shoes appeared in your field of vision. It immediately flew off.

_Oh God no._

You didn’t even bother to look. You knew who it was. “Maybe Mindy was onto something. Are you stalking me?”

“Nah, doll. I think yer the one stalkin’ me.”

The weight of the bench shifted slightly. You turned to glare at Sans, who had leaned back and was making himself quite comfortable next to you on the bench. He had a cigar between two fingers.

“Do you _need_ something?” you asked him.

He smiled. “Penny for yer thoughts?” he asked before placing his cigar in between his teeth.

You leaned back and folded your arms in an attempt to look as standoffish as possible. “I was just _thinking_ that that pigeon was almost as fat as you are.”

He immediately choked on his cigar, so violently his hat almost fell off his head. He started coughing, and you felt your lips curl into a smug smile.

The smile vanished when he wheezed and then roared with laughter. He leaned forward in his seat, slapping his knee. Initially, you were annoyed. You couldn’t even insult him? He would just laugh?

But as his absolutely stupid guffawing continued, you found yourself biting down on your lip to keep from smiling. That didn’t work, so you tried biting the insides of your cheeks. That didn’t work either.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” he said, his eyes full of mirth, “ya really hate me, don’tcha?” Raising his brows at you, he added, “So much that ya think about me when I’m not around, huh?”

_Goddammit!_ How had he managed to turn the tables? You wanted to glare but you were still smiling. So instead you just said, “Have you not learned to not speak to me?”

“I don’t do much learnin’, sweetie.”

“Clearly.”

He laughed again. It didn’t seem to be at you, though. ~~Why did his laugh have to be so funny?~~

Still smiling, he looked down and nodded at the bag sitting by your feet. “What’s in there?”

You shrugged. “A new dress.”

“Yeah? Will I get to see ya in it?”

You gave him a bitter smile, though at this point you weren’t sure if it was sincere. “In your dreams,” you told him.

“Absolutely in my dreams,” he said, winking.

You felt your face get hot. You wanted to _scream._ How? _How_ did he turn your own words against you?

“What’s the occasion?”

He was still looking at the bag. Without much thought, you said, “I’m going out dancing tomorrow.” The corner of your mouth quirked up in a smile. “It’s my first time.”

“Didn’t think you were one to party.”

“I don’t because I can’t,” you told him. “My father doesn’t want boys talking to me.” Raising your eyebrows, you added, “Like you, for example.”

“I know that.”

“No, you obviously do not,” you said. If he really understood the gravity of it, he would stay the hell away like everyone else. “He will have some men find you, and they will riddle you with bullets. Or he’ll kidnap you and riddle you with bullets himself.”

His eye sockets lidded, and the lights in them seemed to dilate. A lot. He removed the cigar from in between his teeth.

“ _I know_ ,” he growled, and the sound seemed to roll through the bench, through you.

You just stared, baffled.

“And I don’t _care_ ,” he added. Your brow furrowed. Did this man have any self-preservation instincts whatsoever—

His arm rested behind you on the bench, and you glanced back and forth between it and him. He was giving you the same look from the night you met. You felt your face heat up, but you kept a stern look on your face.

He leaned close, looking you dead in the eyes. It was like some kind of insane staring contest that only one party member was enjoying.

An inhale from him.

“You’re wearing different perfume,” he observed, his smile growing.

“You are _going._ To _die._ ”

He only moved closer to you on the bench. You were tempted to try reverse psychology, but you had the feeling that telling him you wanted him wouldn’t end well for you either.

The two of you were so close, that when he spoke in a low whisper, you could hear every word perfectly:

“Your Papa can shoot me _dead_ as long as I can have you,” he rumbled, his teeth almost touching your lips. “Just once. ‘N then I can die.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you asked.

He grinned that predatory grin, though the way his eyes lidded looked more drunk than anything.

“Sweetheart…. _you’re_ what’s wrong with me.”

The lights in his eyes dropped down to your lips and he leaned so close that your cheeks brushed against each other. He was clearly moving to kiss you. Your heart started to race for some unfathomable reason, and the sensation frightened you.

You slapped him across the face.

He withdrew, rubbing his cheek. If only it could be red where you’d slapped him. That would be satisfying.

“Fuck, that fuckin’ hurt,” he muttered, as if he’d lightly bumped his head against something.

“Good!” you replied.

“OK, OK,” he said. “‘M sorry. I’m really sorry.”

He made eye contact with you as he said it. You blinked, then resumed your stony expression. “For what?”

“Fer flirtin’ with ya just now.”

“And how do I know you mean that?”

“I do actually like ya,” he said. “Not just…” He gestured to your form. “I like ya, yer smart. And fun, when yer not mad at me.”

“I’m mad,” you said, “because you just won’t stay away. There are so many other girls, you can go and talk to them instead.”

“I don’t wanna, though. I wanna talk to you.”

You watched him, and he watched you back. Did he mean that? Or was he just saying it so that he could smooth things over with you now, and then try again the next time you saw each other?

You took a breath.

“If you’re not lying to me,” you said, “then you’re forgiven.”

He smiled sincerely, looking more sensitive than usual. “Thank you, doll.”

“You should be thankful, you absolute idiot.”

He chuckled again. “You tell it like it is. I like ya for that.”

Well, you weren’t used to anyone liking brutal honesty. You felt the tension in your body dissolve just a bit.

“No lies,” he said, his look sobering. “There’s just… so much lyin’. ‘N cheating. ‘M no exception or nothin’, I just… It’s nice to talk about it with someone who won’t lie to you.” He smiled gently. “Y’know?”

For a moment, you said nothing. Was he trying to soften you up?

It was awful that you were even having to worry about that.

“I wouldn’t know,” you told him, though it came out far more vulnerable than you meant it to.

His smile faded. “... Yeah.”

You stood up, grabbing your bag. “I should go,” you said. “My parents will worry if I’m gone for too long.”

He moved to get up.

“No, you don’t have to do that.”

He paused. You thought a moment, then grinned.

“You just keep resting your fat ass on the bench.”

He snorted and laughed big belly laughs again, falling back into his seat. “Jesus,” he muttered, still smiling. “Yer great.”

It felt good to be able to say whatever you wanted.

He nudged your leg with his foot. “Hey.”

You were smiling now. “Mm?”

“Have fun dancin’ tomorrow, huh?”

Not able to put on a firm expression, you just nodded. “Thanks, Sans. You have a good time lying around doing nothing.”

He snickered, and you turned around and left.

* * *

When you got back home, you found your mother in hopes of showing her the dress you’d bought. She was reading in the living room, so you got her attention.

“Mama,” you said, “look at this dress I found.”

You pulled it out and showed it to her, and she smiled.

“You seem excited,” she said.

“I am!” you told her. You were going _out_ for once.

“I’m glad.”

You admired the dress’s fabric.

“You’ll look very nice at dinner tomorrow.”

You blinked, your smile faltering. “Dinner?”

“Adolfo called, and your father invited him over for dinner tomorrow.” She shrugged with an amused smile. “He forgot about the dancing. You know he does that.”

Forgot, or had changed his mind and done this to keep you from going out? You weren’t sure, but you were angry either way. “So I’m just supposed to call Mindy and tell her I can’t come?”

“Yes.”

“No!” you said. “I’m not doing that!”

Her look grew stern. “(Y/n), finding you a husband is more important than—“

“I don’t want one of these men for a husband!” you told her. “They’re all horrible people! Every single one!”

“So I suppose your father is.”

“I never said anything about Father! But all the men I could marry are _murderers_ , and _liars_ , and _cheats_ —“

She said your name harshly. You knew that tone. She was serious.

She set her book down and stood up from her seat. “We’ve had this talk too many times. You need to grow up.”

Your jaw clenched.

“You know as well as I do that you need to marry one of these ‘murderers, liars and cheats.’” She sobered. “You can’t just walk away from this life. No one can. Don’t pretend you don’t know what will happen if you try to walk away like it’s nothing. You know, don’t you?”

You said nothing.

“The rival gangs will find you and either kill you, or use you against your father. And then kill you when you are no longer of use to them.” She cocked her head. “And as much as many men don’t want to admit it, they need us. Our family is counting on you to marry someone who can continue building this business. You need to accept the life you’ve been given.”

Your chest was burning. You wanted to curse, and tell her that fuck that, fuck Adolfo, fuck everything, you didn’t care if your father’s business burned to the ground. And that you would rather get shot by a rival gang than be stuck for the rest of your miserable life raising children who would either become criminals or the wives of criminals.

But instead you sighed.

“I’ll go call Mindy,” you said, albeit through gritted teeth.

“Thank you,” said your mother.

You picked up your bag and went upstairs to your room, locking the door behind you. You hung the dress up neatly, and then sat on your bed, by the phone.

You reached into your purse and fished out the card that Sans had given you.

Blinded by sheer rage at your parents and at that ass Adolfo, you dialed the number and then waited.

The voice that picked up was loud and harsh. Papyrus.

“PAPYRUS AND SANS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. THIS IS PAPYRUS. WITH WHOM DO I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF SPEAKING?”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted and started to laugh. _Lawyers? Really?_ You wondered if that had been Sans’ idea.

~~You hoped so.~~

“... WHO IS THIS?”

“Sorry,” you said, and gave him your name. “May I speak to Sans, please?”

There was a moment of silence.

“GODDAMMIT, SANS, YOU COMPLETE IMBECILE!”

He instantly hung up, and you stared at the phone, confused. You dialed them again, but no one picked up. The small spark of hope that you’d had started to flicker out. You just sat on your bed for God knows how long, feeling it die.

Had you said something wrong?

The phone rang and you instantly picked up. “Yes? Hello?”

“Hey, dollface.”

You never thought his voice would give you such a rush of relief. “Hi, Sans.”

“Sorry about that, sweetheart. Papyrus doesn’t exactly like me talkin’ to ya.”

You heard Papyrus’ shrill voice screaming in the background, though you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“No one likes it,” you told him with a smile.

“Well, clearly you do, beautiful. What can I do you for, hm? Feeling _phone_ ly?”

You tried to hold back a snicker, but it came out anyway. You then composed yourself, going so far as to sit up straighter in bed.

“Remember when we met?” you asked, doing your best to sound serious.

“ _Do I?_ ” he purred, and you were glad he couldn’t see your red face. “What about it, dollface?”

“And you told me that you could leave the party without having to walk out the door?”

“Yeah.” You heard a mischievous tone in his voice as he said, “Why do you ask?”

You hesitated. The rage was starting to fade away.

You forced yourself to picture Adolfo’s stupid mug again and you quickly felt the fire you needed to continue.

“Doll?”

“My parents are forcing me not to go dancing because Adolfo Acerbi wants to have dinner with us.”

There was a moment of silence on his end this time.

“Sans?” you said.

“Acerbi, huh?” He sounded like he’d said it through gritted teeth (weird, considering he always spoke through closed teeth).

“Yeah, him. He’s a lying shit,” you told him, taking the opportunity to swear. “And I fucking hate him, and he just ruined my chance to go out for once.” After a moment of more hesitation, you told him what you wanted:

“I want you to help me sneak out after dinner tomorrow. I’m not letting Acerbi ruin my night.”

Another moment of silence, and then Sans replied.

“I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if you don't know, I have [a tumblr](https://shyneanon.tumblr.com) where I also simp over skeletons, and I write more fanfiction. Lots of sfw one-shots! So hey, follow me and stuff. :P


	4. Prince Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most charming and lovable of princes comes over for dinner.

* * *

**Sans**

* * *

Sans was sleeping in an armchair when he heard Papyrus:

“GODDAMMIT, SANS, YOU COMPLETE IMBECILE!” The phone in the room was slammed down back into place. A rude caller?

“Whuh?” he mumbled, his eye sockets blinking open. Irritated, he managed, “What’d I do? I was asleep.”

“YOU’RE STILL SPEAKING TO HER?”

Sans sat up, instantly awake. “What? Who?” Surely not who he was thinking about.

“DON’T ‘WHO’ ME! WHEN DID YOU GIVE HER OUR NUMBER?”

Before he realized it, Sans had gotten up from his seat and was headed for the phone. “Wait, ya mean  _ her _ her?”

“YES! SHE JUST CALLED AND ASKED TO SPEAK WITH YOU!”

_ R… Really? _ You had called him?  _ You  _ had called  _ him. _

“QUIT SMILING!”

Was he smiling? He was.

“DO YOU WANT TO DIE, SANS? QUIT TALKING TO HER!”

Sans didn’t say anything, just grabbed the phone, beaming. “Sorry, Paps, can’t talk. I got a call.”

“NYEH!”

_ You.  _ Had called  _ him. _

Wait.

… You had called him.

Sans’ smile faltered the more he thought about it. Why had you called him? Was something wrong? But even if something were wrong, why would you call  _ him _ about it? You didn’t like him. Were you in trouble? His fingers were already dialing you back, worry starting to overtake him. Was it someone else? Did someone else know you had been speaking to each other? Did they have you? Did they want to threaten--

“Yes? Hello?”

Your voice sounded urgent, which didn’t help Sans’ concerns. Still, he didn’t want to overreact, so he kept his voice calm. “Hey, dollface.”

You simply responded, “Hi, Sans.”

Oddly friendly, but he certainly wouldn’t complain. You sounded… relieved?

Did you like hearing his voice?

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he said, feeling some relief of his own. “Papyrus doesn’t exactly like me talkin’ to ya.” He did his best to ignore Papyrus yelling at him about how this was dangerous. He wasn’t used to hearing you without seeing you.

Your voice was so sweet.

“No one likes it.” He could hear the smile in your voice. You found him amusing…. He sat down in a nearby chair, wanting to focus solely on your conversation.

Smirking, he said, “Clearly you do, beautiful. What can I do you for, hm?” His grin spread. “Feeling  _ phone _ ly?”

He ignored Papyrus’ groan nearby, feeling his soul light up when you snickered on the other end. He made you laugh.

What a cute laugh….

Your more serious voice returned. “Do you remember when we met?”

How could he forget? That first encounter had really been something. “ _ Do I? _ ” he growled, desperately hoping it was making you blush on the other end of the line. “What about it, dollface?”

There was a pause on the other end. Sans knew he’d probably made you blush and swelled with pride.

You, of course, just moved on with another question: “And you said you could leave the party without having to walk out the door?”

Wait a second, were you trying to do something you weren’t supposed to be doing? So you weren’t as (reluctantly) compliant as he’d thought you were. His grin widened. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

A moment of silence. For a moment he worried that you’d hung up. Had he teased too much?

“Doll?”

You hadn’t hung up. Sounding frustrated, you said, “My parents are forcing me not to go dancing because Adolfo Acerbi wants to have dinner with us.”

_ Fucking Acerbi. _

So he was making his way into your parents’ good graces… Into your good graces?

His soul felt tight. Again, he knew he shouldn’t feel jealous, but…  _ That little shit. _ His mind was already catastrophizing. Soon enough you’d be going on dates. He’d kiss you. He’d  _ marry _ you. Sans would never get to see you again. Or make you laugh, or tease you…

“Sans?”

Right, you probably thought he’d hung up. He tried to restrain the anger he was feeling. “Acerbi, huh?”

“Yeah, him.”

Acerbi wasn’t even good for you. He was an ass, and he wouldn’t let you say the kinds of things you said to Sans. Honest things. His ego was too big. These things were objectively true. Everyone Sans knew thought so.

“He’s a lying shit,” you hissed into the phone, and Sans blinked. For a moment he felt surprised… and then he felt stupid for feeling surprised. Of course you could tell he was a lying asshole, you weren’t some kind of idiot. You were smart.

It was one of the many reasons why he liked you.

You continued, “and I fucking hate him,” and Sans beamed. Hell yes. As long as you hated him, there was no way you’d walk up to that altar with him. He… There was still a chance… that he could… He didn’t even hear the rest of what you said, only noticing when you paused. He was about to ask if you were still there when you spoke again:

“I want you to help me sneak out after dinner tomorrow. I’m not letting Acerbi ruin my night.”

Seriously? You were sneaking out? And you were asking  _ him _ for help? Damn, anything for you. Anything.

He resisted the urge to call you naughty, although he was very much thinking it.  _ Naughty girl. _ Hah…. He would absolutely whisper that to you if you were—

_ OK, Sans, enough with the daydreaming.  _ He composed himself and responded to your request.

“I can do that.”

* * *

**You**

* * *

The next evening, just as expected, the doorbell rang to signal Acerbi’s arrival. Your parents wanted you to answer the door, so you did, putting on your most polite smile.

“Hello,” you said.

“Hello,” replied the man standing outside. He looked as Italian as his name sounded: Olive skin, dark hair and eyes. He was very in shape. You had to admit, he wasn’t bad looking.

It was too bad he was… well, him.

“You look beautiful,” he said, looking at you with what you figured was supposed to be an adoring gaze. Only problem was he wasn’t a particularly brilliant actor, so it looked over-the-top.

“Thank you,” you told him, opening the door wider. You made sure to keep your answers curt. It was the only method of rejecting conversation that you could use right now.

He stepped inside and greeted your parents before turning back to you with a shy smile. His voice quieted.

“So, I…”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box— not like one with a ring, that would have given you a heart attack. This one was slimmer. Definitely jewelry, regardless.

Sure enough, when he lifted the lid there was a necklace adorned with… too many jewels. If such a thing were possible. It looked gaudy.

“I know it’s not much,” he said, and you resisted the almost overwhelming urge to give him a deadpan look, “but I know you like jewelry. And when I saw this, I thought of you.”

Since when had you said anything about liking jewelry? Well, you didn’t dislike it, but you didn’t have a particularly vested interest in getting more. You hadn’t mentioned jewelry to him at all.

Also, he had terrible taste. Or was this a hidden insult, that something this loud supposedly made him think of you?

He started talking about what kind of jewels they were and you immediately realized what he was doing.  _ Look at me, I’m rich, I have money. _ How was that supposed to work on you? Your own family was exceedingly wealthy.

Well, maybe it was less about wooing you and more about impressing your parents. For some reason, that made you angrier. He didn’t care if you liked the necklace. He didn’t even care if it was a good-looking necklace, just that it showed off how much he could afford. But you supposed that was what to expect from someone who only wanted your father’s money.

Still, you had to take it or your parents would be upset, so you took the box with another polite smile. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You forced yourself not to add an  _ “I’ll put it with the others,” _ though that would have felt immensely satisfying.

Even if it hadn’t been Acerbi who gave it to you, you would never wear this thing. It was ugly as all hell. Which is remarkable for something studded with what would have otherwise been beautiful jewels. You almost felt bad for the rocks, shoved unwillingly into a place where they were unable to fulfill their potential. Maybe there was someone who could remove them from the necklace, so that they could shine properly.

At least you weren’t forced to endure any more conversation in the foyer, because dinner was ready quickly and you were able to go sit at the table. He and your father immediately got to discussing business. Occasionally you caught certain phrases from Adolfo:  _ “getting in the way,” “out of the picture,” “a little messy,”  _ and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant. At least, not if you’d grown up surrounded by criminals.  _ Murder, murder, murder _ . He said them so nonchalantly it made you a little ill. A couple of times he even cracked jokes, that your father actually seemed to find funny. You tried not to sulk, otherwise your parents would think you were doing it on purpose, to ruin their night. You didn’t care what Adolfo thought of you, but you didn’t want your parents to think you were an overgrown child.

Speaking of Adolfo, he turned his attention back to you.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been paying you any attention. Your father is just very interesting to talk to. I have a lot to learn from him.”

_ Sucking up. Do you have any dignity at all? _

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m doing fine,” you answered, sticking with short responses.

He moved his chair only slightly closer; despite his smile, you could see a slight irritation in his look. Your lack of cooperation was frustrating him. “I’m sorry if I make you nervous. You don’t need to feel shy.”

“Oh,” you said, “I’m not. I just don’t have much to discuss with you.”

You caught your parents giving you a look and you quickly bit into a roll that you were holding in your hand. A glare quickly passed over Adolfo’s visage, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“I understand,” he said. “I know we come from different spheres of the household.”

_ Translation: “I know you’re a woman and therefore have nothing in common with me.” _

“But,” he continued, “I want to know you as best I can.” He made a show of “nervously” straightening his clothing.

God, he was so boring, even without the bad acting. This whole dinner was boring.

“Oh, come on,” you said.

He just stared.

You gestured to the green beans that were on your plate and smiled. “Stop…  _ bean _ so serious.”

You snickered like an idiot.  _ God, is Sans starting to rub off on me? _

Your parents looked surprised, probably because you didn’t exactly make puns (or, jokes of any kind) on a regular basis. Adolfo looked like he was doing his best not to openly cringe, and his expression only served to further amuse you. You started to giggle and gestured loosely to him, trying not to point.

“Your face,” you said, “you hate the joke so much. I wish you could see your face right—“

You saw his hand twitch, and your laughter immediately stopped.

“Laughing at people isn’t nice,” said your mother.

“I wasn’t laughing at him,” you protested, “I was laughing  _ with _ him. He just didn’t find it very funny.”

That was putting it mildly. You had the feeling his normal reaction would’ve been to hit whoever was laughing at him.

Well, that was settled. You were definitely not marrying him.

“What  _ do _ you find funny?” you asked.  _ Besides dead people. _

“Oh,” he said, “I’m… not really one to do a lot of laughing. I’m more of a businessman, it’s why I enjoy talking to your father.”

Right. You liking him was just a bonus.

“That’s too bad,” you said. “I had a lot more where that came from.” You gestured to the meat on your plate. “Now I know not to  _ steak  _ any bets on you laughing at my jokes.” You snorted.  _ When did bad puns become so funny? _

Adolfo looked physically pained, and you would have laughed at his face again if he hadn’t had such a negative reaction earlier. God, you wished Sans were here. He would have been roaring with that horrible, stupid laugh of his.

Ugh, you’d give anything to replace Adolfo with Sans right now….

You blinked. Was your face warm?

“That was horrible,” said your father, but he was at least smiling. Probably happy to see you enjoying yourself.

“That’s what makes it funny,” you told him.

Adolfo didn’t try making conversation with you again, which was actually very nice. You much preferred thinking about what you’d be doing soon. Drinking, dancing… You would get to see Mindy.

You wondered if Sans danced…? You held back another laugh. You had a hard time assuming that someone as large as him would dance with a lot of grace.

Thinking helped everything go by faster. It was why you said nothing during most dinners with guests. You could absorb yourself in your thoughts and soon enough it would all be over.

Once it was, Adolfo thanked your parents far too profusely for the meal. They told him that you would show him out the door. For a moment you were irritated, but… this was actually good.

As you led him into the foyer, he told you, “I enjoyed seeing you.”

_ Pshhhh. _

“Good to know,” you said. You glanced back and then looked back at him, dropping the smile. “Now that we’re here, I’d like to take the opportunity to speak  _ honestly. _ ”

He blinked. “... I’m sorry?”

“You don’t give two shits about me and I know it,” you said, a bit amused at the way Adolfo seemed shocked by the swear. “You just want our money. And I’m not afraid to tell you so. Trust me, if your ego is so thin that you’d hit someone for laughing at your facial expression—“

“I have no idea what—“

“Then you don’t want to marry me. OK? Because I won’t keep my mouth shut to spare your feelings.”

He stared down at you, his false smile still plastered onto his face.

“Maybe you just need to learn some manners,” he said.

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he lifted his hand; you instinctively winced, which only served to further amuse him.

“Ah, look. It’s already working.” Raising his voice, he said, “Well, goodnight. It was wonderful seeing you again. I hope you have sweet dreams.”

The second he was out the door you shut it, swallowing thickly.

_ He wouldn’t actually…? _

Something told you he would.

You heard your mother’s voice from behind you: “Sweetheart, don’t laugh at guests when they’re--”

“He just threatened to hit me,” you said, turning around to find both your mother and father standing there. They were so taken aback that they didn’t answer for a moment. Most likely unable to process the information. So you repeated it: “He threatened to hit me.”

His mistake. Soon enough your father would barge out of the front door and gun the idiot boy down until he--

“Please, (y/n), don’t do this,” he said. “Please be an adult.”

You blinked, horrified. “I’m…. I’m serious!”

“Yes, right on our doorstep he threatened to hurt you, when I’m right here, and he knows how I feel about you. I understand you don’t like him but please--”

“He just wants your money!” you said. “He’s a lying, conniving little--”

“And so what if he just wants your father’s money?” said your mother with a stern glare. “That’s what this is about. Money. You know this. This isn’t a fairy tale. You don’t get to waltz off into the sunset with a handsome prince.”

Your father looked a bit awkward, and he moved to say something, but your mother held up a finger.

“No, it’s true, and you know it. We want the closest thing to a prince she can get but that’s not what this is about.” She turned back to you. “This isn’t about you or who you’ll be happy with. Whoever you end up with, you can learn to love them. This is about making sure you’ll be taken care of when you’re--”

“Oh my God!” you cried. “It’s like we’re still in the 1600s! I could have gone to college! Lots of girls go to college now! Papa, you say I’m smart! I could have gone to college so that I could be more than some trophy wife for a man who makes jokes about killing other--”

“We aren’t discussing this any more,” said your mother. “Like I said yesterday, you need to accept the life you’ve been given. Like an adult.”

She held out the box that contained the necklace. “Take this. And if you do anything to it you will be in trouble.”

You snatched the box from her hand. “Goodnight,” you said stiffly, and headed for the stairs, keeping your head held high so you wouldn’t look like a sulking child. You tried to take your mind off the now and think of what you’d be doing in a couple of hours.

When you arrived in your room, you put the necklace in a drawer where you kept all kinds of other random junk you didn’t use. You waited a while, until you were sure your parents would be asleep. Once you were certain things were safe, you locked your door quietly and then headed for the window to your room.

* * *

**Sans**

* * *

Sans had gotten to his spot a bit earlier than he should have, just barely managing to avoid being spotted by Acerbi as he’d left. He’d had a scowl on his face. Sans knew there was no one who could have caused it but you.

There was no way in a million years Acerbi could handle someone with your level of honesty.

Eventually he heard your window open, and he looked up. You were there, looking down at him and waving. Smiling, he waved back, only for you to respond with a frustrated look and giving him a large  _ come here _ gesture. Oh. You had been beckoning him. Right.

He shortcutted into your room, tilting the brim of his hat in a polite greeting...

And then he saw what you were wearing.

_ Holy shit. _

A form-fitting dress, smaller than the one he’d seen you in when you’d met. Oh, man… Your legs… your  _ hips _ … your  _ curves _ …

_ Fuck….  _

His gaze traveled up your body and to your face. Everything about you was amazing. Your silky hair, and your lashes, and your eyes…

Which were giving him a rather unamused expression.

“Are you done inspecting me now?” you asked.  _ Shit, _ had he really been openly eyeing you up? Wait, was his face hot? Why was it hot?

He avoided looking at you.

“How did you do that?” you asked, genuine curiosity laced in your stern voice.

“Magic, sweetheart,” he replied, finally looking back at you. He flashed you a grin.

“Just get me out of here,” you said.

_ Gladly. _

He reached over and took your hand. It was so small in his…. and soft….

Another shortcut and you were inside a grocery store after closing hours. You seemed a bit startled, and you were thrown off-balance a bit, but you caught yourself. Because of course you did.

“‘S this way,” he said, making sure to let go of you before you made any snide comments. You followed behind him, and he could tell you were trying to hide overwhelming eagerness. Funny how he’d learned to read your body language even when you tried to cover it up. You really were better at being direct.

The both of you got to a door meant for a storage room, and Sans gave the knock. The door was opened and you both entered.

You were obviously trying to hold back excitement, and he smiled. It was… kinda cute.

_ You  _ were cute.

He led you down into the speakeasy, which was alive with customers drinking bootleg liquor and a small band playing swing music. Didn’t you have a friend? The same friend from lunch, you had mentioned that she—

A sudden yell of your name in a female voice.

_ Ah. _

Your friend seemed to bring you out of your shell, because your face broke into a grin and you both threw your arms around each other. You started talking, and he felt happy to just watch. Unfortunately for him, now that he was at a slight distance, he was once again aware of the way the dress hugged your form….

“Fuck me,” he muttered to himself.  _ Figuratively and literally. Fuck me. Please. _

You turned back to him, and to his surprise your eyes were alight with joy as your gaze locked with his. You were still smiling. He wasn’t used to you looking at him like that.

Those eyes and that smile… Something inside him seemed to melt.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, and he realized it had come out far softer than usual. “Need anything?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SG in the comment section of last chapter was curious to see what the phone call scene would be like from Sans' perspective, so you can thank them for the opening to this chapter. I love reading all of your feedback, so by all means comment. I love talking to you all, you're all wonderful. :)
> 
> Also, I still have [a tumblr](https://shyneanon.tumblr.com) , so check it out! :P


	5. Speakeasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a great time out. Absolutely nothing goes wrong. Nope. All good here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I hope you all had a great New Year's Eve. And I hope you like this next chapter.

A drink was what you needed. So you had one, beaming the entire time. It was just you and Mindy. And… Sans, who wasn’t being as obnoxious as usual. Or maybe you were just too happy to care. You felt a little embarrassed at how starry-eyed you probably were, but you weren’t sorry. It wasn’t your fault you’d never been to a bar before.

“So how was dinner?” asked Mindy as she started on a second drink.

The look on your face must have said it all, because both she and Sans laughed. You decided not to mention his… more unsettling tendencies. You didn’t want to ruin Mindy’s night by worrying her.

Hell, you were in such a good mood that even ruining Sans’ night would make you feel immensely guilty.

“He’s so boring,” you said. “He has no sense of humor at all.”

“Ya like funny guys?” said Sans with a smug grin. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Are you implying that you’re funny?”

Mindy started to giggle, and from the way it sounded you could tell the alcohol was starting to get to her.

“Your terrible sense of humor is like some kind of contagious disease,” you said to Sans. “And I have it now, apparently. I tried telling two awful puns at dinner.” You shrugged. “At least my father thought it was funny that I liked them. But no one laughed.”

“I woulda laughed,” said Sans.

“I’m well aware.”

Eventually Mindy nudged you. “Ooh, look at him. He’s cute.”

She was talking about a tabby-colored cat monster nearby. He looked very nervous. Maybe it was his first time at a speakeasy too. Or he was just… always nervous.

“Watch this,” she said, and got up. You were already smiling as she sat down daintily next to him and started talking, batting her lashes. You couldn’t hear what she was saying over the music, but it was clearly working, because his face was flushing red.

“Yer friend is kinda crazy,” said Sans, but it sounded friendly, so you didn’t mind.

“She is. I like her for that.” You looked over at the multiple empty glasses in front of him. “And you’re crazy too.”

“Ah,” he said. “Takes a lot tah get me drunk. Yer the one who’s crazy, still sippin’ from that same glass.”

“I would rather not get drunk,” you told him. “Especially around you.”

“Around me?” He raised a brow and threw you a wink. “Why? Think you’d make a decision you’d regret?”

“No,” you said, but you felt your face get hot. 

Thanks to your stupid blush, he seemed skeptical. You attempted to wave him off.

“Go find some cute girl to flirt with, there are plenty here.”

He beamed, looking just as stupid as usual. “But I’m talkin’ tah the cutest one already.”

Your face flushed again and you began to worry that you were perhaps a lightweight.  _ Please no. _ “I’m serious, Sans.”

“So’m I. If I leave someone else’ll snatch ya up.” He grinned as another glass of alcohol was set down in front of him. “You look absolutely incredible in that dress.”

Ugh, it was the alcohol. The alcohol was making your face red. Despite this, you sipped some more. Sans took his glass and downed it.

“I’m not sure I want to see you when you’re drunk,” you told him.

“Ahh,” he said, “‘m fun when I’m drunk.” His eyelids(? Did he have eyelids?) were starting to droop. “‘Specially with cute ladies around.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” you said.

“No, ‘m fine, ‘m not drunk.” Another glass was set down in front of him, and he downed that one too.

“You’re going to  _ get _ drunk.”

“So?”

“So I have the feeling that won’t end well.”

“H’ve I mentioned that you look fucking amazing in that dress?” he said. Some of his words were slurring now. Yet another glass was set in front of him; you reached out to snatch it but he pulled it out of your reach and drank the whole thing in a couple of gulps.

“Yes,” you said.

“Cuz hot damn….”

Before you could stop him he leaned close and wrapped his arms around you.

“Yer drivin’ me… fucking crazy.”

His hand rested on your thigh and you slapped it.

“S… sorry,” he said, then squinted. “I think I might be a li’l drunk….”

“You think?”

He smirked. “On you.”

“On alcohol, Sans. You’re drunk on alcohol.”

He ignored you. “Baby, h’s anybody ever told you that yer body is… the greatest fucking work of art that the heavens above ever made?”

Your face started to burn and you covered it with your hands. No, nobody had told you that, considering they would get about a thousand bullets in their chest if they did.

“Cuz it’s like somebody took my fantasy and made it real.”

“Sans,” you said, doing your best to sound scornful.

“‘N then they took yer sexy body and put the most amazing, stubborn, funny, smart girl inside.”

You blinked. He complimented your appearance a lot, but not your personality. Did he really think that?

_ Don’t be a naive moron, no he doesn’t. _

He nuzzled your cheek and you realized his arms were still around you. “S… Sans,” you said. “You’re drunk.”

Thankfully, he let go, his grin wider than usual. “Hey, let’s dance!”

_ Hm? _ “You dance?” you said.

“Nope. Never in my life. But you can teach me, huh?”

Well, that did sound nice, but…

“Can you even stand up?” you asked.

“Don’ matter,” he responded. “All that matters is… that it’s fun.”

He reached over and cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

“C’mon, doll. Le’s have fun together.”

… That was true. You were here to have fun. You nodded.

He practically picked you up and carried you to the dance floor, albeit with an awkward, wobbly gait. The band was playing, as Mindy had promised, swing. You smiled. It was nice.

“Mmkay,” said Sans. “Whadda we do?”

_ He’s not going to be able to dance. _

You were right. You tried to teach him the Jitterbug, but all he did was stumble around. Judging from his awkward attempts to copy your movements, he was probably seeing double. Eventually you just started to laugh and shake your head. This was hopeless.

“Hey,” he said, his brow furrowing-- but he was still smiling. At least he was a happy drunk. “Don’t laugh a’ me. ‘Srude.”

You shook your head. “Y’know, if there’s one thing I  _ do _ like about you…”

He raised his brows. “There’s somethin’ you  _ like? _ Ya sure  _ you _ ain’ drunk?”

“... it’s that you don’t mind me laughing at you.”

“Why would I? Yer fun.”

“Yeah, well, Acerbi begs to differ.”

“Eh, fuck that guy.”

His arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer. “Sans,” you said in a warning tone.

“‘M not gonna try’n kiss ya,” he said. “I jus’... like bein’ close to ya.”

_ … Stupid. _

He touched his nasal bone to your nose, grinning like the moron he was.

“Boop,” he said, still beaming, and you started to giggle. You tried to stop but you couldn’t.  _ Don’t encourage him! Shut up! _

“You’re stupid,” you told him.

“Yeah? You like stupid?”

“Of course I don’t like stupid.”

“Mm… I beg t’ differ.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why’s that?”

“Cuz yer smart. Stupidity… ‘slike somethin’ exotic.”

You squinted, thinking. That was an oddly logical train of thought for Sans. And  _ drunk _ Sans, at that.

His teeth touched the corner of your lip and you started slightly. “Y’like… doin’ what yer daddy tells ya not tah, huh?”

You hesitated. Eventually, you answered, “Kind of,” although you weren’t sure whether you wanted this conversation to continue.

He flashed his sharp teeth at you and you could see your own reflection in his golden tooth.  _ Strange. _

“Naughty….”

You glared, but it faltered when he lowered his voice to a growl.

“Call  _ me _ Daddy… ‘n I’ll make ya  _ wanna _ do what I say.”

Your face started to burn again. “In your wildest dreams.”

“Oh  _ yeah _ .... I dream ‘bout it all th’ time….”

_ What? _ “I didn’t need to know that,” you said quietly.

A hand slid down your back and started to stroke you somewhere else. You slapped it again. “No,” you scolded, like someone telling a puppy not to tear up the furniture.

He stopped touching you there, his hands moving back to your waist. At least he still took consent into account while inebriated. “Fuck… Ya drive me crazy….”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“I wan’ you…. I  _ need _ you….”

Your face was still burning-- why were you blushing? You should be offended. It… it was burning with anger, probably. “We’re in public.”  _ What kind of excuse is that? _

“Jus’ a kiss….” A hand cupped your cheek again. “Jus’ one. It don’t… hafta be ‘ny more….”

When you didn’t protest--  _ Protest! _ \-- he leaned in. His breath smelled like the alcohol he was--  _ Am I leaning  _ towards _ him? _

There was a sudden bang from the direction of the door. It snapped both of you back into reality, and you both turned.

Several men with Tommy guns were storming down the stairs, already pointing their weapons at the patrons.

They yelled some stuff, though you were too scared to process what. Not that you’d never seen a Chicago typewriter before, but never in a threatening context. You did notice that the bar’s owner tried to approach and reason with them. Why did this surprise you? It was illegal liquor, of course they would be doing dealings with the mob. Unfortunately, they seemed just as angry as before. Despite being drunk, Sans somehow had better reaction time than you ( _ He’s dealt with this before _ , you thought) and he pulled you out of the way just before the men started firing. The gunshots were almost deafening, but they didn’t drown out the sounds of glass shattering and the screams of patrons— not to mention the distinct sound that bullets apparently make when they go right through someone. You didn’t see much, but what you did see was a lot of red. You were lucky you were able to form any coherent thoughts, seeing as your brain seemed to be shutting down. But you did remember Mindy.

“What about Mindy?” you yelled over the noise, looking up at Sans. He wasn’t just going to leave her, was he?

“We’re gettin’ her. Just stay behind me.”

You found yourself paralyzed by the pandemonium around you. You knew what happened in this business, but you’d never… seen or heard it firsthand. Before you knew it you just had your face buried in his arm to avoid seeing any more. Sans practically carried you to Mindy, who was trying to hide— where had the tabby cat gone?— and he grabbed onto her hand.

You felt an odd sensation as Sans did that strange magic trick of his. This time you hadn’t been as prepared and you fell over as you arrived at your destination. Mindy had no idea he could do it at all, so she landed awkwardly on the floor nearby.

“Sorry,” said Sans. “Maybe shoulda given you fair warning.”

Mindy sat up, her fur standing on end. You could tell the hair on the back of your neck was doing the same. You realized that while you weren’t shaking, she was.

Ah. So your background still made you somewhat desensitized.

You got to your feet and looked around. This place didn’t look familiar. You were in the living room of large house, but it wasn’t yours. Or Mindy’s, you’d seen hers before.

“SANS! WHAT’S GOING ON? WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?”

Wait, were you at Sans’ home? You turned, as did Mindy, and saw Papyrus approaching. When he saw the two of you, he immediately glared at Sans.

“SANS, ARE YOU—“ He did a double take before gesturing to you. “WHAT THE  _ HELL _ , SANS? WHY IS SHE HERE?”

“Shooting,” said Sans, “I got ‘em out of it. First place I could think of was here.”

“WHICH MEANS YOU WERE WITH HER?”

“Yeah.”

Mindy looked confused, glancing at you. Right, she didn’t know that Sans could get killed for this.

“You girls OK?” Sans asked, getting a bit closer. Good question. You looked at yourself, a bit frightened that you would suddenly see a gunshot wound that you had been too distracted to feel. But you seemed to be fine. The same was the case with Mindy— thank God.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“The mob,” said Mindy, “what else?”

“No, I mean the specifics.” You looked between Sans and Papyrus.

Sans was pulling out a cigar and a lighter. “From their short  _ discussion _ , sounds like the juice joint was gettin’ a little too chummy with mobsters from different territory. My guess is they were told to quit, or else, ‘n they didn’t listen. Their mistake.”

Mindy looked confused and a little frightened. She glanced at you as if to exchange a worry that these two men were involved. You shrugged, and the look in her eyes that followed told you that she had put the pieces together.

“WELL WE CAN’T JUST RETURN THEM,” said Papyrus. “THEY NEED TO RECOVER, THEY’RE CLEARLY TERRIFIED. AND NO DOUBT YOU HAVE NO COVER STORY PREPARED.”

“Yeah,” said Sans, “we’re lucky it’s pretty early in the night.”

“Um,” said Mindy, in an uncharacteristically shy voice. It was obvious she no longer wanted to be here. “M… may I go sit down?”

Papyrus gestured to the couch and she went and sat. Sans gave you a look, clearly asking for your help. Yeah, he probably had no idea how to deal with this. You nodded and headed for the couch, murmuring a thank you as you walked past him.

You sat down next to Mindy, and then realized you really had no idea what to tell her either.

Thankfully, she started, “So, your family…”

You nodded.

“And, them...”

Another nod.

She stared, then let out a nervous giggle. “Actually, that… explains a lot.”

“It’s OK,” you said, “they won’t hurt you. Sans is too stupid for that.”

“Oh my God,” she said, “I am… so sorry that I kept teasing you about him. N… now I understand why—“

“We have bigger things to worry about right now.” You hugged her. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

You heard Sans again: “You two are gonna need a shrink after this. I’m real sorry.”

You shrugged. “Not your fault.” You looked at Mindy’s dress. “At least no one’s clothes got stained.” You’d seen the stains on your father’s suits. They were a nightmare. “And we got free drinks, I guess.”

“People  _ died _ ,” Mindy told you softly.

You felt a strange emptiness at the thought.

Did you not care?

* * *

Mindy already had a cover story for her parents, so after a while of sitting and talking with her until she wasn’t so shocked, Sans took her back home and then came back. You were unsettled to find that you weren’t afraid, or sad. Yes, people had died. That was objectively true. And that was sad. That was objectively true. But you felt nothing.

Such is the business, right? Casualties happen.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you look exhausted.”

You looked over at Sans, who had sat down next to you on the couch.

“I am exhausted,” you told him.

“Think ya might want a short nap before ya go back home?” He winked. “Naps fix almost anything.”

That… didn’t sound bad, actually.

He took you by the hand— you noticed the difference in size again— and led you towards the stairs.

You heard Papyrus: “SANS?”

Both of you turned. Papyrus sounded less angry and more concerned. He looked it, too.

“PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID.”

“I won’t,” replied Sans, “she jus’ needs a nap.”

You nodded to confirm, and Papyrus left the room, grumbling to himself. You understood why he was worried.  _ Both _ of the brothers would get killed if your father found out you were here.

Sans took you upstairs and to a guest room.

“The bed’s nice ‘n soft,” he told you before giving you a wink. “I should know, I’ve slept on every bed in this house.”

You snorted, making your way over and sitting down. The light was already off, so the only light entering the room was coming from outside.

Sans smiled gently, holding onto the doorknob. “I hope you have sweet dreams, dollface.”

He turned around to leave and you said, “Wait.”

His head turned, and the pinpricks of red light in his eye sockets stood out against his large silhouette. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, then said, “Could you stay with me?” You didn’t feel like being alone at the moment. You turned on a small lamp next to the bed.

“Of course, if ya want.”

He entered the room, closing the door behind himself, and sat down next to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Paps just gets dragged into this mess.
> 
> Hey, I still have [a tumblr](https://shyneanon.tumblr.com). Gimme a follow. Sorry for the lack of one-shots this week too, we had family visiting. But I should be posting more soon! Send me prompts! People give me fun inspiration, I like the prompts people send in. :)


	6. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans tries to make you feel better. It works... and then it doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was oof.

This was the last thing you’d expected to be doing tonight. Asking Sans to stay with you in a room, for… emotional support.

Just thinking about it felt surreal.

“‘M sorry about what happened back there,” he said. “Ya coulda gotten hurt and it woulda been my fault.”

“... Your fault?”

He nodded. “If I jus’... hadn’t helped ya sneak out, ya wouldn’t have been there tah begin with.”

“I asked you,” you said. “So it’s my fault too. Besides, if you hadn’t been there, something could’ve happened to Mindy.” If there was anything you were grateful for-- which there was-- it was saving Mindy. “Thank you for getting her. She would have died.”

“Hey, she’s yer friend. An’ she’s sweet, she doesn’t deserve tah die.”

You found yourself hugging him again. He hugged you back and you sank into it. It just felt good to have someone so big around you like this.

“You make me feel safe,” you mumbled.

  
  


* * *

Sans nearly froze up when you said it. He made you feel… safe?

He wasn’t used to that sentiment.

It felt… good.

“I won’t let anybody hurt you,” he told you, pulling you closer. You reciprocated. He even kissed your forehead, and you leaned into it.

You really were upset, weren’t you? You just wanted someone to comfort you. It had nothing to do with him.

The thought made him mildly disappointed, but what really mattered was that someone was here to make you feel better.

He caught a whisper:

“I’m a horrible person.”

“Huh?” he said, confused. You were anything  _ but _ horrible. “No yer not, sweetie.”

“All those people died and I don’t care. I don’t feel anything.”

Well, he could understand that feeling. Or, lack thereof.

“Sweetheart, if we felt bad for everybody who died we’d go insane. That’s jus’ how it works. We hafta get used to it.”

“I hate it,” you murmured. “I wish I could just be normal.”

He understood that feeling too.

“I think we all do,” he said. “Sometimes.”

You let go, much to his disappointment, and pulled away. “I’m… probably going to regret telling you this—“

“Then don’t,” said Sans. He didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.

“I have to. I just… have to talk to someone who will listen. No one will listen to me except you and Mindy.”

You knew he would listen to you. He smiled a bit. You trusted him, then?

Was he winning you over?

The thought made his soul glow inside him.

You hugged yourself as you said, “I don’t just hate getting married to someone like Acerbi because he’s terrible. Which he is. But if I get married to someone in the mafia, then I can’t leave. And that’s all I want to do. I just want to leave.”

Oh.

“I want to marry a normal, boring man with an office job that he hates, who has mildly annoying coworkers, and who does boring, normal things all day.” You sighed. “I don’t want to marry someone like....”

… Someone like him?

Sans could feel his soul sinking as quickly as it had lit up with excitement. He recalled what he did for a living. It wasn’t as if he could make excuses for himself, he was indeed part of the mob. And that involved killing people with guns, or sometimes even with his bare hands. Torture, too. And threatening people’s families. That was a thing. Not to mention dozens of other crimes he committed on a daily basis without even thinking about it.

He looked back down at you; you’d lain down on the pillows, on your side, still hugging yourself. You looked so uncharacteristically sad.

And you really were so small.

What was he supposed to say? You were right.

You deserved better than him.

“But I’m going to end up with Acerbi,” you mumbled. “And he’s going to hit me.”

Everything else was suddenly forgotten.

“He’s gonna  _ what? _ ” Sans said.

You just kept lying there. It was… depressing to see you like this. You were never like this. You never looked so  _ defeated.  _ You were stubborn. It was one of many reasons why he liked you. But right now, all you did was shrug, and say, “He’s going to hit me.”

A rush of anger started to surge through him, but he tried to stay calm. For your sake. “Sweetie,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to hold back what he was feeling. Perhaps… you were being irrational? You were acting very out of character right now. “How d’ya know that?”

“I made fun of him at dinner and I saw this look in his eye. And his hand twitched. I’ve seen that before, it’s what someone does when they would hurt you but are holding back for some reason.” Another sigh. “And then after dinner I told him to fuck off and he told me that someone needed to teach me manners. He wasn’t all that subtle about what he meant.”

_ Teach you manners— Fuck him! _ Sans felt his fists clench. If that asshat were here right now he would…

Your eyes were on his fists.

_ … Oh. Oh shit. _

He immediately unclenched his fists. “Doll, I didn’t… I’m angry at Acerbi, not you—“

“I know,” you said simply.

“I would never hurt you,” he insisted.

You just watched him, then raised your eyebrows in tired skepticism.

Did you really think…?

Then you blinked a few times, looking surprised. “Sans?”

When you said his name he realized how wide his eye sockets felt, and the way any trace of his angry facial expression had faded into one of shock. Shit, he probably looked so pathetic right now.

“Are you OK?” you asked.

“Course I’m not OK,” he said without thinking. “Ya just said I’d hurt ya.” He shook his head. “I would never do that. Didn’tcha just say I make ya feel safe.”

“You do, right now. You don’t  _ want  _ to hurt me. But when this lifestyle calls for violence as a consistent answer, then what else will you eventually turn to once you’re angry enough?”

“That hurts,” he snapped.

“What hurts?”

“Jus’... sayin’ I’d hurt ya! As if it’s jus’ gonna happen no matter what! I know ya just think yer bein’ honest but ya can’t predict the future. ‘N ya can’t read my mind.”

Your look faltered. You seemed to be genuinely considering his response.

“That’s true,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry. I’m just… being pessimistic right now.”

“I’d fuckin’ hurt Acerbi though,” said Sans. Thankfully, you smiled.

“I honestly wouldn’t complain.”

He placed his hand on your arm. “Sweetheart?”

“Mm?”

“Please don’t be like this. Yer not yerself.” He smiled. “Where’s the fire I usually see in ya?”

You shrugged. “It’s like any fire, I guess. It burns out if it’s not rekindled.”

“Well then we gotta rekindle it. Fast. Cuz yer freakin’ me out right now.”

That made you smile. “Maybe I’ll keep acting like this, then.”

His smile started to return. “There it is. There’s that stubbornness I love so much.”

Your smile grew. “You really like it?”

“Course I do, it’s what makes you different from other people I’ve met. No filter.” He wiggled his brows. “Like me, ah?”

Still smiling, you narrowed your eyes, and he laughed.

“Lookit that. Guess I’m the guy ya need tah rekindle that flame, huh?”

“God, I fucking hope not.”

Another laugh. He felt himself swelling with pride. “Yeah, there it fuckin’ is! God, yer amazing.”

… Had your face turned red? Yeah, it was red. Sans felt his own face heat up.

You shook your head in disbelief.

“You do make it come back,” you said. Then you shrugged. “I guess your stupidity is just that effective.”

He snickered. “Yeah, ‘m just that stupid.”

“Don’t agree with me!” you said, but you were grinning. You sat up.

“Aw c’mon, ya should be glad. Who else is gonna agree with ya if ya call them stupid? Acerbi?”

“God no.” You snorted. “Fuck Acerbi.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy, fer real.”

A moment of silence. He instinctively reached for his pocket to pull out a cigar—

Your arms were suddenly around his neck and your lips pressed against his teeth. Before he even knew what was happening, he reciprocated. What the hell? You were  _ kissing _ him?

… Ah.

A dig at Acerbi.

Still, it was a kiss, from you, and it felt fucking amazing. He wrapped his arms around you, letting out a hungry purr, and you sank into his grip. Did you just shiver?

“Fuck Acerbi,” you mumbled before kissing him again. You were clearly enjoying it, even if it was only for the adrenaline rush of fucking Acerbi over.

Huh.

The two of you were kind of similar, huh?

“Yeah,” said Sans, “fuck Acerbi.”

He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You gasped a little in surprise— you probably hadn’t expected him to have a tongue at all— and he chuckled.

“You’re good,” you said... shyly? “At this, I mean.”

“How would you know?” said Sans playfully. “Ya’ve never been kissed before.”

“Hm, you’re right. Nevermind, you suck at this.”

He laughed, and you giggled, and then the both of you leaned in for another kiss, this one less aggressive. It was gentle on both ends. Sans felt his soul glowing again.

You kissed his cheek gently and then moved close, nuzzling him. He took you in his arms, beaming with pride. His soul wouldn’t stop racing, and humming, and…

Shit, was he in love?

There was a sudden harsh knocking at the door and you both pulled away from each other.

“Yeah?” said Sans, trying to put his new worry out of his mind. “Whaddaya need?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?” yelled Papyrus. He sounded pissed. Did he have some sort of sixth sense for whenever Sans was doing something he shouldn’t with you?

You looked at him as if you expected him to have a response ready. “Uh,” Sans started. “We’re jus’ talkin’, lay off.”

“SHE SHOULD GO HOME NOW! I DON’T TRUST YOUR ABILITY TO CONTROL YOURSELF!”

Geez. “Alright,” Sans said, “fine, I’ll take her home. Innuendo not intended.” He turned back to you to find that your face was flushed red. It hadn’t been like that two seconds ago, had it? “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

You nodded vigorously, not looking at him.

“Be back in a second,” he called out the door.

“YOU’D BETTER BE!”

He made a talking mouth with his hand, rolling his eyelights and smiling. He got a snort out of you, at least. Taking your hand, he shortcut to your room.

Lowering his voice, he said, “Tonight was nice. Besides the… shooting thing.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. What was wrong? He had the feeling asking wouldn’t do him any good.

“See ya later, beautiful.”

Another nod.

He shortcut back home, to the kitchen. He needed a drink.

* * *

_ … Oh my God, what did I just do? _

You buried your face in your hands. How stupid were you?  _ Stupid, stupid! _

You just needed to go to sleep, you weren’t thinking straight.

As you got dressed in pajamas, you repeatedly cursed under your breath. What kind of idiot were you? You were feeling a rollercoaster of horrible emotions at the moment, but the dominant one was humiliation. There was no way to pin this on Sans. Were he intelligent, you would assume he had somehow manipulated you into this, but that wasn’t true. He was an idiot. You supposed he was  _ so _ dumb that your own IQ lowered when you were around him.

You curled up in bed and closed your eyes.

_ Now what? _

“Shit,” you whispered, and sat up. You weren’t going to be able to rest until you’d sorted through everything in your head.

Well, now you’d probably ruined everything for yourself. Sans had been your ticket out of this house so that you could go out and be normal. But now he probably thought there was something going on between the two of you. Or at least that you were attracted to him. Which you  _ weren’t _ . You’d been in an emotional state, you hadn’t been using your brain.

Maybe you could tell him that you’d been slightly woozy from the alcohol, and it had made you overly emotional and irrational. And then the two of you could just forget this had ever happened, and move on.

_ … Nope. _

It wasn’t worth it. Firstly, this plan to forget that you were part of the mob, for just a little while, had backfired horribly. Now  _ Mindy _ knew, which could put her in danger. It was as if the universe was conspiring to keep you constantly aware of your place in this world. Or you carried around some horrible curse. Had your parents had a terrible run-in with a witch when you were an infant or something?

The smartest decision was to stop talking to Sans. Stop so much as  _ looking _ at Sans. If you saw him somewhere, you just needed to get up and walk away. It shouldn’t be hard. You despised him anyway. So what if he was funny? Or if he listened to you?

Or if kissing him had felt really nice?

Which it hadn’t.

And even if it  _ had _ , you had to use your  _ brain. _ You weren’t twelve, you’d learned this world wasn’t about how you felt. If you were motivated by pure emotion you were just going to make more mistakes. You weren’t in a Shakesperian tragedy about two fourteen-year-olds making drastic decisions after meeting each other at a party once. You were allowed to follow your head and not your heart. In fact, you needed to do that.

_ Yes. Don’t be stupid. Be smart. Just stop talking to him. _

You sighed, sliding down beneath your covers again and closing your eyes.

If he were here you wouldn’t be so depressed.

_ This is exactly why I need to stay away. _

* * *

Sans was in the middle of drinking a glass of whiskey, the bottle sitting next to him on the table, when Papyrus walked in.

“PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME YOU DIDN’T HAVE SEX WITH HER.”

He shook his head.

“THANK GOD.”

Sans usually responded when he was spoken to— his mouth tended to do a lot more work than his brain— but this time he didn’t.

Fuck.

So he’d done it. He’d kissed you.  _ Congratulations, Sans, you did it. Mission accomplished. _

But it didn’t feel like a victory. A kiss wasn’t enough.

And no, not like sex. It wasn’t that he wasn’t satisfied with first base. He just kept remembering you dancing, smiling at him. Your eyes sparkling at him. You were so small, and so beautiful, but so tough. Like a tiny diamond. No, everything was starting to really sink in. All this stuff about kissing you… He didn’t just want to kiss you, he wanted to  _ be _ with you.

Hell, he’d even seen you vulnerable and sad and it hadn’t scared him off. Quite the opposite; nothing had made him feel better than being there for you when you needed someone. It seemed your parents didn’t serve as a refuge.  _ Adolfo Acerbi _ certainly wouldn’t be one. There was Mindy. She seemed nice. But she couldn’t know any more than she already knew.

And he made you feel safe. You’d told him so.

Why couldn’t he just… be with you? Why did it have to be Acerbi? Why couldn’t you make your own choice?

If you could, would you even pick him?

He was going to sleep alone tonight. Why couldn’t you be there right next to him?

“WHAT’S WITH THAT LOOK?”

Papyrus snapped him out of his thoughts. When had the whiskey bottle gotten half empty?

“Uh, nothin’,” he said, but that only seemed to concern Papyrus more.

“SANS, PLEASE DON’T TELL ME IT’S ABOUT HER.”

“Mmkay, I won’t.”

Papyrus clearly didn’t like that answer. “WHAT IS IT NOW? JUST LEAVE HER ALONE!”

Sans made to speak, then changed his mind.

“NO, JUST TELL ME! IT’S GOING TO COME OUT EVENTUALLY! JUST SAY IT!”

Well, that was true.

“I… think I might be in love with her?” Sans said, smiling nervously.

Papyrus just stared.

He then whacked Sans upside the head.

“NO YOU ARE NOT! YOU JUST MET HER! AND, NEED I REMIND YOU…”

He grabbed Sans by the shoulders and got in his face, making Sans wince at the screaming.

“THAT HER FATHER WILL FUCKING SHOOT YOU! SHE IS OFF! LIMITS!”

He didn’t feel that same rush of excitement as before. “But… I think she might like me too—“

“SO WHAT? THAT DOESN’T MATTER!”

“You expect me tah just go through life ‘n just let what happens to her happen?”

“YES, SANS! THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE DOES! LIFE IS LIKE THAT! YOU TWO ARE JUST  _ EXCEEDINGLY _ STUBBORN!”

That was true, the both of you were stubborn. Ugh. This was some  _ Romeo and Juliet _ -type shit. This was stupid. Why’d it have to be like this?

A sigh. “SANS… LOOK.”

Sans looked over at Paps, who looked very sober at the moment.

“I AM YOUR BROTHER. AND I KNOW I’M NOT ALWAYS THE MOST… AFFECTIONATE OF PEOPLE… BUT I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET HURT, SANS.”

Sans blinked.

“I KNOW I YELL AT YOU AND CALL YOU NAMES AND WHATNOT BUT… IF I’M BEING PERFECTLY HONEST, I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’D DO WITHOUT YOU. YOU’RE LAZY AND YOU HAVE A HORRIBLE SENSE OF HUMOR, BUT… IF I DIDN’T HAVE YOU AROUND I’D BE EVEN MORE HIGH-STRUNG THAN I AM.”

“‘S that possible?” Sans said with a grin.

“SEE? THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. I GROAN AND ROLL MY EYES AND TELL YOU TO SHUT UP, BUT…” He wasn’t scowling or smiling, the way he usually was. He was frowning. “... I CAN’T IMAGINE WAKING UP ONE DAY AND JUST… NEVER HEARING YOUR HORRIBLE JOKES AGAIN.”

Sans abandoned his drink, a frown now on his face as well.

“PLEASE, SANS. LEAVE HER ALONE. SHE’S GREAT, I’M SURE, BUT SHE’S NOT WORTH RISKING YOUR LIFE. NO ONE IS.”

A moment of hesitation, and then Sans said, “You are.”

Papyrus broke character even more when he threw his arms around his older brother. For a moment, Sans was stunned, but he gave him a hug back and patted him.

“I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET HURT,” said Papyrus. “I DON’T KNOW… HOW I’D LIVE THIS KIND OF LIFE WITHOUT YOU. I DON’T LIKE IT ANY MORE THAN YOU DO.”

So nobody half decent really liked it, they all just sucked it up. Why? Whose fucking  _ idea _ was this mob shit?

Eventually Papyrus let go. Was he wiping an eye socket? “ANYWAY, I THINK… YOU GET MY POINT. JUST… STOP. YOU’RE GOING TO GET HURT BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPIDITY AND I DON’T WANT THAT.” A cough. “AND GO TO BED, WE HAVE A MEETING TOMORROW.”

“Huh?”

He’d gone back to scowling. “I TOLD YOU ABOUT IT EARLIER TODAY, BUT OF COURSE YOU WEREN’T LISTENING!”

“With who?”

He sighed, then said, “HER FAMILY.” Another glare. “BUT NOT ONE WORD TO HER! NOT ONE!”

For a moment, Sans considered lying.  _ Sure, sure, not a word. _

But everything his brother had just said had changed things. Sans had been selfish. If he got killed, Paps… his little brother... would be all alone.

“Mmkay,” he said. Not one word to you.

If things came down to you and Paps…

Well, he wasn’t sure that he could pick you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaoohh nooooooooooo
> 
> Lots of POV-switching this chapter (and in the newest chapter of my other fic, The Skeleton Magnet, you should check it out if you haven't). I just enjoy POV-switching. But writing this chapter truly was oof.
> 
> Reminder that I have a [a tumblr](https://www.shyneanon.tumblr.com), where I post one-shots about other skellies. You can give me prompts any time you want! Because I get writer's block often, lol.


	7. Callback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to avoid each other won't do any good....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of an update last week! I had written Chapter 7 but it didn't feel right, and I'm glad I didn't post it. I personally find this thoroughly different version to be much better. So I hope you enjoy!

The next day, you woke up and immediately resolved to put last night’s events out of your mind. In fact, you would put the last few weeks’ events out of your mind. Sans didn’t exist, none of this had ever happened. You would pretend Mindy had found out about things some other way.

You convinced yourself that you had done it easily. It was all out of your mind now. Definitely.

The morning was fairly normal. You were in the middle of being served breakfast when your father spoke up:

“By the way, Princess, we have some guests coming over later today. We’re meeting about business and I want you to help make them feel welcome.”

You nodded. That wasn’t unusual, your father’s business partners came over all the time and you were expected to speak with them. You didn’t like it, but you’d learned to tolerate it. It was definitely better than Acerbi.

So as evening approached, you made sure your dress was clean, that your hair was neat, and that you had makeup on. It wasn’t that long afterward that there was a ringing at the door.

_ Must be them. _

You headed down the stairs. While you were never keen to talk to these men, you weren’t really obligated to converse much. Just be polite and then think for the majority of dinner while your father spoke to them. They wouldn’t hit on or threaten you unless they wanted to die, so you were never worried about that either.

Your father’s voice was audible as you reached the bottom of the staircase: “It’s wonderful to welcome you both to our home for the first time.”

You froze when you saw the tall, lanky silhouette in the doorway. Papyrus.

Had your father said  _ “You both” _ ?

“S’nice tah be here, sir,” said a voice from a source you couldn’t see, and you felt your heart stop.

You wanted to turn around and bolt back up the staircase.

But you couldn’t do that. So instead, you forced yourself to take a deep breath and reach the bottom of the staircase with a calm and dignified expression. As you got to the bottom you were noticed by Papyrus and your father. The latter smiled.

“Ah, here she is! Princess, I’m sure  _ you _ remember Papyrus. And you remember my daughter, I’m sure. ”

“I DO,” said Papyrus. “IT’S VERY NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN.”

You swallowed, but nodded back with a polite smile. “It’s very nice to see you too.”

“Come on in,” said your father, and Papyrus obliged.

Sans followed.

Immediately, you braced yourself for a friendly grin, or a small joke, but all he did was tilt his hat in polite greeting, then turn to your father, greeting him instead.

Perhaps he was being careful?

No, Sans didn’t know the meaning of careful.

So why didn’t he say hello?

Well, it wasn’t like you cared anyway. So… whatever.

It wasn’t long before you headed for the dinner table. Papyrus made sure to sit between you and Sans. Maybe Papyrus told him not to speak with you? You kept your eyes off him; you didn’t want your parents to see you watching him for some kind of… something. You didn’t really know.

The topic immediately went to business, mostly between your father and Papyrus. Sans didn’t seem particularly interested, though you only glanced over once or twice in hopes of seeing what his problem was. He just ate, silently. It was completely unlike him to not speak  ~~ to you ~~ .

Why did you suddenly feel self-conscious?

The shooting at the bar was actually brought up, and for a moment you felt nervous. Maybe someone had seen you there? You hadn’t even thought of that before! That someone could see you! You were such an idiot! Then again, your father would’ve been either furious or panicked this morning, and he’d been calm as ever. He was usually very open about how he was feeling as long as only you and your mother were around. Sure enough, you weren’t brought up.

Eventually, your father said, “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about these things at the dinner table. We don’t want to depress the ladies. It wasn’t a feud that involved us, anyway.” He then smiled at you. “Princess, tell them what you said to Adolfo Acerbi yesterday.”

Confused, you raised an eyebrow.

“The thing about the beans.”

Your mother gave him a look as if to say  _ “Come on, really?” _ but he was still smiling. He didn’t find the joke funny, but he seemed to find it funny that  _ you _ found it funny.

_ Sans would find it funny. _

Which meant you couldn’t tell it. You said nothing.

“She’s embarrassed,” your father said. “I’ll tell you. I can’t remember what Acerbi was talking about, but he was being very formal. And we were eating green beans.”

Your mother sighed.

“So she--” he pointed at you, and then pointed at his plate-- “pointed at the beans and said, ‘Come on. Stop  _ bean _ so serious.’”

_ Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh, don’t laugh-- _

Sans immediately began to roar with laughter, going so far as to slam his fist down on the table. Your mother grimaced slightly, and Papyrus shot him a glare, though you could tell it was more worried than angry. Your father was surprised, but he looked amused.

You bit your lip. Sans kept laughing with that absolutely ridiculous, stupid, awful…

A snicker escaped you, and the next thing you knew you were giggling. When Sans noticed, he started to laugh harder, pointing at you unabashedly-- which got you to laugh harder. You could see your mother giving you a look, and you understood-- it was bad manners for a girl to laugh so loud, especially in front of guests-- but you didn’t even care, and you allowed the laughter to die down naturally instead of forcing yourself to shut your mouth.

You coughed a bit once you calmed down. Your sides actually hurt.  _ God, I just died laughing over my own bean joke…. _

Well, it was more Sans’ unbearable, dumb laugh. It was contagious.

“I gotta say,” said Sans, “your daughter has incredible taste in humor.”

“Personally I think it’s terrible,” your father replied with a smile. “But I’m glad someone else enjoys it.”

It seemed your father was easily endeared by anyone who seemed to genuinely like you.

That… felt kind of nice.

“I got one,” said Sans.

“OH GOD,” said Papyrus, and your father barked a small laugh.

“One time, I tried to make a quiche. Did not go well.”

“THAT’S PUTTING IT LIGHTLY,” said Papyrus. “IT PRACTICALLY BLEW UP IN THE OVEN. EGG  _ EVERYWHERE. _ ”

“Exactly,” said Sans. “It…  _ egg _ -sploded.”

You snorted and started to giggle again. Sans laughed a little, and your father beamed.

Before you even knew what was happening, Sans was just telling bad pun after bad pun, and you were laughing at  _ all _ of them. Your father didn’t seem to mind at all, just ate with a smile. Papyrus looked utterly embarrassed, and your mother kept glancing over at your father. You couldn’t tell if he wasn’t noticing, or if he was just pretending not to.

The rest of dinner continued in this fashion.

Once dinner was finished, Papyrus managed to steer conversation back onto its original topic. Which made sense, they’d come to talk about business anyway. To your surprise, however, your father smiled at you as their conversation got underway:

“Princess, why don’t you continue your one-sided conversation with Sans in the living room? I doubt you’ll meet many people with your sense of humor.”

_ Really? _ All thoughts about forgetting Sans even existed flew out the window, and you nodded. Sans beamed as well. Your father did make sure to give him a warning though.

“Just don’t try anything. You know the consequences.”

“That I do, sir,” Sans said casually, saluting, and your father actually laughed again. Both you and Sans got up and headed for the living room.

You resisted the urge to take his hand.

The two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch--  _ For once, he has some iota of intelligence _ \-- and started to talk.

“Ya said that to Adolfo Acerbi?” His massive grin made his… cheeks?... pull up over his eyes a bit.

“He was being boring,” you responded. “I didn’t know he would hate it so much.”

“Get used to it. Guy has no sense of humor.”

The idea of getting used to it didn’t appeal to you, but it was best not to say so out loud. Not here.

Another pair of footsteps sounded and the two of you turned. Your mother was sitting down in a nearby armchair, picking up a book to read. Was she suspicious? Maybe she was just worried you would grow attached if you shared the same sense of humor.

You knew, deep down, that she cared. But she was just…  _ so _ bad at showing it. The two of you exchanged a small glance before continuing.

“So what was Acerbi here for?” Sans asked. “Business with yer dad?”

_ Good job, Sans. Legitimately. _

“He’s interested in me,” you pretended to explain, pointing at your ring finger.

“Oh, hey, wow. Congrats. Lemme know when the wedding is, huh?” A friendly wink. Hey, he was a good actor when he wanted to be.

“It won’t be soon, he’s only been over for dinner once. My father’s probably going to want to quadruple check that he’ll be good to me.”

“Yeah, he seems real protective. But y’know, that ain’t bad. He seems like a good guy.”

You nodded, looking back at the kitchen, where your father and Papyrus were talking. “He is.” A little embellishment: “I’m lucky to have him and my mother. They’re great people.”

“That’s good tah hear. Ya seem like you deserve some good folks.”

The conversation continued like this, but for some reason, you didn’t seem to mind. Sure, none of it was honest, since your parents were around, but he was here, and he made jokes.

You could make eye contact.

Eventually Papyrus and your father entered; it seemed the visit had ended. Sans gave you one more bad pun and a friendly wink, and the two of you shook hands. With a tip of his hat, he got up and he and Papyrus left, your father seeing them out the door. When he came back, he was smiling.

“This was fun!” he said. “I got the wrong impression of Sans that night when you met him.”

You smiled.

“He seems like a useless idiot, but he’s a fun one. I’m glad he amused you.”

You had to force yourself to keep the smile plastered onto your face.

After a small chat, you stood up and brushed off your dress. “Well, I’m tired. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“Alright, Princess,” your father said. Your mother gave you a smile and a wave and you headed upstairs.

You had just taken off your jewelry when there was a knock at your bedroom door. “Come in…?” you said. It came out as a half-question.

The door did open and your mother entered. You felt your stomach drop a bit.  _ Oh no. _

Much to your surprise, she seemed a bit softer than usual. Her look wasn’t as stern as you were accustomed to, and she was holding her hands in front of herself a bit.

“Do you think we could talk?” she asked.

You were surprised and confused, but you nodded. She pointed to the bed and looked at you as if to ask a question. You nodded again, and she sat. You moved to sit next to her.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. You were still waiting for a scolding, or an expression of concern. But she shook her head.

“Only that I haven’t been very empathetic towards you as of late.” A pause, then she continued: “I just… I heard you speaking with Mister Sans….”

Hearing the name  _ Mister Sans _ was utterly bizarre; you could never imagine calling him  _ Mister Sans _ .

“... And you said that your father and I were wonderful people, and I felt so guilty. Because I haven’t felt very wonderful lately.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “Not that I’m  _ trying _ to be… not wonderful. I promise that everything I’ve said to you has been motivated by a desire to make sure you understand things as a young woman, and...” She shook her head, seemingly giving up on that train of thought. “But that’s not the point. The point is I’m being one-sided about it, and I’m lecturing at you all the time. And I shouldn’t have  _ all _ my words fueled by an agenda, no matter how much I may mean well. I’m sorry about that.”

You blinked. After her following you into the living room, you hadn’t expected her to apologize. “It’s OK.”

A moment of silence.

“You know,” your mother said, and you turned to her again. “When I was engaged to your father, I was terrified.”

Curious, you listened.

“I thought, ‘God, he’s going to hit me, and call me horrible names, and he’ll never care about anything I think or say. I’ll be like a slave.’” She smiled at you. “I know it’s probably hard to believe, but I was a lot like you. I think that’s why I bother you so much. I see the young version of myself in you, and I’m seeing it as an opportunity to time travel, and tell young me everything she needed to hear. But I’ve forgotten that young me was her own person, with real concerns and desires. I wasn’t stupid, and neither are you. I was upset-- and  _ doubly _ upset that I didn’t have any say in the matter. It wasn’t fair.”

“It’s  _ not _ fair,” you insisted.

“I agree with you, it’s not fair. Not in the slightest. You and I are smart, but we’re going to be housewives anyway.”

You frowned. “But you didn’t have to be.”

“What other choice did I have? To argue? I tried. To run away? That would be a terrible decision.”

As much as you hated to admit it, she was probably right. Running away was probably an impulsive and naive thing to do.

“I’m glad that you’re like I was.” She smiled. “I give you a hard time, but I think I would be disappointed if you just buckled and gave in instantly.” The smile faltered. “But every quality is a double-edged sword. I’m proud of you for not giving in to every decision that’s made for you, but… there’s a point where you have to accept the hand you were dealt.”

And she’d lost you. There must have been some sort of scowl on your face, because she sighed.

“Yeah, I… I understand.” She stood up. “I won’t lecture you about how you should feel. Just… think on what I’ve said, alright? I was terrified but your father has treated us wonderfully.”

“Father didn’t threaten to hit you.”

“Listen, if that really happened— if Adolfo really threatened you— it’s not as if you’re already engaged. We’ll notice the signs, OK? We won’t let you marry a man who will treat you badly. And even if you don’t believe me, you  _ know _ your father won’t.”

Well so far the red flags had sailed over their heads. But at least she was telling you she cared. And she was giving you the benefit of the doubt. That was  _ something _ , at least, even if it wasn’t quite your ideal scenario.

She leaned down a bit to kiss you on the forehead, and then smiled.

“I used to have to lean down a lot more,” she said.

That made you smile a little bit.

“Have sweet dreams.”

You nodded, and she left. You were glad she hadn’t gone on forever. But you still didn’t find her reasoning satisfactory.

Maybe you really were just naive or idealistic or something, but if that was the case you’d just have to learn the hard way.

Now that you were sitting on your bed, you felt like lying down. Just for a little while. Then you would get changed out of your clothes.

So you did, and closed your eyes.

A noise at your window caused your eyes to open and you sat up.

Another sound— a hard thwack against the glass— and you turned to the window. This time, you were able to see a very small rock hurtle to the glass, make that sound, and bounce off.

It was surrounded by a red glow.

_ What the hell? _

You got up and noticed that your clock had jumped forward by a couple of hours. So you had fallen asleep on the bed.

Another rock, another thwack. You went to the window and looked down.

_ Fucking Sans. _

You shot a death glare down at the massive skeleton standing on the sidewalk below. He just grinned back, because of course he did.  _ That’s all he does is laugh and smile and be relaxed, how can someone be so relaxed? It’s infuriating. _

Well, it was obvious he wasn’t going away, so after a small glance behind you, you opened your window and stuck your head out.

“What?” you hissed. “What do you want?”

Thankfully, he had the common sense not to yell. But he did give you one of his obnoxious, playful smiles. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”

You flipped him off and he snickered.

“Fer real, sweetheart. C’n we talk?”

“No,” you replied.

“C’mon, I can pop in and then pop out. It ain’t a long talk.”

Talk about what? What did he want to talk about? You? Your parents? Acerbi? Him?

You forced yourself to give him another firm “No.”

To your surprise, he clasped his hands together in what almost looked like real begging.

“Please,” he said.

Fuck, why were his eyes so… sad-looking? Now it was like turning down a depressed puppy.  _ Goddammit….  _ You sighed and held up your index finger to indicate  _ one moment. _

You locked your door and then returned to the window.

You nodded down at him.

In an instant he was inside and his arms were around you. Before you could process what was happening, he kissed you, and you felt your entire body jolt from the electric shock of it. Your self-control was instantaneously overcome by a wave of chemicals rushing through your body, and without any chance to think twice you kissed back. His grip on you was firm, but gentle. It made you feel secure, and with the voice of reason in your head completely gone, you clung to him. Your knees felt weak. Your heart was pounding so hard you swore someone would hear it.

How the hell was he doing this to you?

“Baby,” he said quietly, “we gotta talk.”

_ He kissed me…. For real this time. _

“Mm?” was all you mumbled, oblivious to the stupid smile on your face.

He smiled gently. “We gotta talk.”

You grew lucid enough to think, although you still wanted to know what nuzzling him would feel like…. “We can’t talk here.”

“I know. I wanna meet tomorrow. At that bench we sat on.”

You thought aloud: “The one where I slapped you?”

He snickered-- you could tell he was forcing back a louder laugh. “Yes, sweetheart, the one where ya slapped me. I wanna meet there tomorrow. We gotta talk.”

“Why?”

“Cuz we gotta figure out what we are ‘n what we’re gonna do about it.”

_ Hm? _

Another kiss and your eyes shut. You swore he could physically sap away your willpower. “OK,” you said quietly.

“Meet me there at three, OK?”

You nodded, and, realizing he was probably about to leave, stood on your tiptoes and nuzzled him with your nose. You felt so warm inside….

“Ah, sweetheart,” he said softly, smiling. “Yer gonna be the death of me.”

After one last kiss to your forehead, he vanished.

Why did his kisses turn off your brain?

For some reason, you found yourself having a hard time caring.

You changed into your pajamas and got into bed. You were still a bit dizzy from the kisses, but after a few minutes your mind started to clear up, and a worry began to creep into your mind:

What did he mean by  _ “figure out what we are” _ ? Was this a serious conversation? Did Sans, of all people, want to have a serious conversation?

About… the two of you?

The thought terrified you.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's sometimes good for Princess when her brain shuts off. She's more honest with herself.


	8. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sans talk things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter than normal, but I hope you guys like it anyway!

Sans hated talking.

He didn’t know how. It made him squirm. There was a reason he liked to make jokes about stuff. It was easier to just shrug it off and pretend nothing had happened.

Well, easier in the moment. It only made things more complicated later on.

As much as it worried him, he liked you. He wasn’t worried about himself, really. But for Paps. And, truthfully, you. If people found out about this… well, your dad probably wouldn’t kill you, but his already tight grip on you would only tighten. And the best solution your parents might see could be to marry you off to Acerbi as soon as possible— something that was  _ objectively _ bad for you.

Dammit, why couldn’t Sans just forget you existed? You’d only just met, why was this so difficult?

Perhaps it was the intimacy of your talk just a few days ago. Usually people weren’t that vulnerable with each other after just meeting, but you had just been through something hard, and your barriers had come down. And Sans had seen it, and he hadn’t minded. He had minded that you were sad, of course, but not that you were showing him.

After dinner he’d realized there was no way he could stay away from you.

You were beautiful, and funny, and smart… and that kiss…. Fuck, your lips…. Sans could do that all day.

And then at night, maybe show you something new….

He shook himself off. He already got turned on way too easily, and you were not helping. How the hell was he supposed to  _ not _ get turned on by… everything? Your hair, your eyes… your curves… your legs… 

You really were like a dream come true.

And so, Sans had done his best not to narrow his options down to  _ talking _ , but things had reached a point eventually where… he felt he’d been cornered. He couldn’t  _ not _ see you, unless you weren’t that interested in him. But judging from the way you’d kissed back earlier…  _ Damn. What a kiss. _

_ Dammit, Sans, focus. _

He didn’t have a choice. He needed to talk. What the hell were you two, and what were you going to do about it? These were, unfortunately, questions that would have to be answered, as much as he hated it. If you weren’t interested enough, he would have to force himself to forget you. If you wanted him as much as he wanted you, the two of you had to figure out what you were going to do about… just… all the pitfalls. Like making sure Paps didn’t get killed, or end up alone. And what to do about fucking Acerbi. His eye socket twitched. How he wanted to wrap his hands around Acerbi’s tiny neck and…

A pang of fear ran through him as he remembered the way you’d looked at his clenched fists.

He didn’t like to be violent.

He wouldn’t be.

Not to you.

He would never hurt you.

He moved on, not wanting to think about it.

Not that he was looking forward to what was next. He was going to have to talk  _ tonight  _ as well, because as much as he hated it, he couldn’t not tell Paps about this. This could put Paps in danger, he had the right to know.

So when he headed to the kitchen and saw Papyrus organizing things at his usual rapid pace, he coughed.

Paps’ first response was to blink. “YOU’RE NOT IN BED.”

“Nah. Listen, we gotta talk.”

“I’M SORRY, WHAT?”

Sans avoided eye contact. “I wanna talk, dammit, don’ rub it in.”

“FINE. IT’S JUST… OFF-PUTTING.”

Thankfully, he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I ASSUME THIS IS ABOUT THE GIRL, YES?”

Sans made to begin, then blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’M SHOCKED.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

Sans shuffled his feet. “Listen, I know what ya said, but… I really can’t stay away from ‘er, Paps. She’s… She’s everythin’ I ever dreamed of, I’ll never meet anybody like her ever again—“

“FIRSTLY, CALM DOWN. YOU BEING ROMANTIC IS ALSO OFF-PUTTING. AND A BIT SICKENING. GOD.” He sighed, his glare fading. “SECONDLY, YES, I WAS THERE AT DINNER. I SAW HOW MUCH THE TWO OF YOU ENJOY EACH OTHER’S COMPANY.”

Yeah, he… supposed it had probably been pretty obvious. “So I s’pose you’ve figured out I wanna see her.”

“YES.”

He instinctively went to light a cigar, and Paps watched his hands. Paps had started saying he was pretty sure the tobacco was addictive or something. But that was ridiculous.

“Look,” he said, “I’m… I’m only gonna do it if yer OK with it. It’s… dangerous fer both of us, ya deserve to have a say in it.”

“SO WHAT IS YOUR PLAN, EXACTLY?”

“Huh?”

“DO YOU JUST PLAN TO DATE HER IN SECRET UNTIL SHE MARRIES SOMEONE? I SHOULD HOPE YOUR PLAN ISN’T TO ENCOURAGE HER TO CHEAT ON HER HUSBAND. YOU CAN BE IMPULSIVE BUT I DON’T THINK YOU WOULD DO THAT.”

“Course not. We, uh… we’re gonna talk about it.”

Paps blinked again. “YOU’RE GOING TO TALK?”

“Yeah. I asked her to meet me t’morrow. So we can figure out what the hell we’re doin’.”

Paps stared.

“I get it, it’s weird, don’ look at me like that.”

“WELL,” said Papyrus, “IF THE ONLY WAY TO GET YOU TO TALK LIKE AN ADULT WAS PUTTING YOU IN A PRECARIOUS SITUATION LIKE THIS, I SUPPOSE THIS MAY ACTUALLY BE  _ GOOD  _ FOR YOU. PROVIDED THE PLAN YOU COME UP WITH ISN’T COMPLETELY IDIOTIC, BUT I’M SURE SHE WILL FILL IN THE GAPS WHERE YOUR EMPTY SKULL DOESN’T.”

He said it with a slight smile on his face.

Sans grinned. “Technically, both of our skulls are empty.”

“OH, SHUT UP.” He was still smiling.

Sans walked over and patted Papyrus’ shoulder. “Hey. Thanks, Paps. This means a lot.”

“WHATEVER, IDIOT. GO SLEEP LIKE A ROCK THE WAY YOU ALWAYS DO.”

A chuckle. “Alright, fine, if ya  _ insist. _ ”

“HA, HA.”

Sans headed towards his room. They weren’t always up for hugs, but… they exchanged their affection in their own ways.

He was so lucky to have family like Paps.

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, you broke Acerbi’s necklace.

It was cathartic.

That said, there had been a reason for doing so besides the catharsis. You needed an excuse to go out.

So at around noon you went downstairs and found your mother. You held up the necklace.

“I was going through my jewelry and this necklace had broken,” you told her, doing your best to look and sound legitimately disappointed. “They must have given him a faulty chain.”

Your mother nodded. “Probably.”

“I was thinking I could take it to get fixed? I like the jeweler downtown, they’ve never given us anything broken.”

She seemed surprised. “You want to get it fixed?”

You shrugged. “It was a gift. And a recent one. It only feels right.”

A blink, then she smiled. “Well, I think the fresh air would be good for you. Go ask your father.”

Your father said yes.  _ Thank God.  _ You hadn’t been sure how well the lie was going to work.

At around two, you were escorted downtown and you immediately headed for the dress shop where you’d gotten your newest dress— eventually taking a turn to head for the bench instead. Sans wasn’t there, and you checked your watch. You were fifteen minutes early. You were going to be mildly annoyed if he was late; he was the one who had wanted to talk so much.

Thankfully, he wasn’t— though you felt a bit guilty for being surprised. He arrived practically right on the dot.

“How long’ve you been here?”

You smiled. For some reason you could remember the first words he’d ever said to you.

“Longer than you,” you replied, and you saw the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile. For some reason, you felt your face grow warm.

He sat down next to you and immediately pulled you in for a kiss. You shivered as your lips made contact with his teeth, not even bothering to try and resist this time. You just wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing gently. After a while of this, you felt a purr reverberate from the back of his throat.

“Oh, babe,” he said, “the things I’d do t’you if we were alone….”

Why was your face getting hotter? “Your libido is far too high, Sans.”

“Oh, you have  _ no idea _ ….”

He growled, leaning in.

“I wanna do all  _ kinds _ of naughty things--“

“OK,” you said, your voice wavering from embarrassment. “This is not the time nor place for that.”

“... Right.” His predatory smile quickly faltered. “Uh… t’be honest, I’m kinda stallin’. ‘M not a fan of serious conversation.”

“Well,” you said, “you brought this on yourself.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Do you have any more stalling material besides dirty talk?”

“... Not really.”

“Then I would much prefer we talk.” Actually, you would rather stall, but the very suggestive flirting made you feel too flustered for your liking.

He chuckled, then sat up straight, adjusting his hat. “OK. Fer you.”

Your face felt warm again.

He stared at you for several moments, then sighed.

“Fuck, I rehearsed somethin’ an’ now I forgot it all.”

You smiled, hoping a joke would help him relax. “I’m sure that even rehearsed it would sound stupid.”

He started laughing again. “Ya take every chance ya have to make a jab at me, huh?”

“Every single one.”

A cough. He seemed very nervous.

“So, listen. We, uh… We’re somethin’. Like, we ain’t enemies. An’ I don’t think we’re jus’ friends. So… I just, I have tah ask you… What are we?”

You blinked.

_ I don’t like that question…. _

“Um,” was all that came out of your mouth.

“Cuz… what we’re doin’ is risky— an’ not just for us— so we… I don’t fuckin’ know.”

You understood the gist of it. Putting yourselves and others (you could only assume Papyrus, which made your heart melt a bit) in danger was just stupid if this was supposed to be a casual relationship.

But saying you were any more was intimidating.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“Well then we gotta figure it out.”

This was surprising you. Sans didn’t usually sound so firm about things. You looked at him.

“I ain’t lettin’ my brother get killed or get left all alone jus’ cuz I wanna make out with a girl.”

You saw his eyes dart around nervously, and he looked away.

“But I don’ think that’s all I want. Not with you.”

He loved his brother. Sans was impulsive, if he was stopping to think, it could only be for his brother’s sake. And that touched you.

“Listen,” you said, “maybe it’s… maybe it’s best if we just… don’t see each other.”

He turned to you. “Is that a way of sayin’ you don’t wanna see me?”

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “Of course not, I want to be with you.”

Your face started to burn.  _ You idiot, you didn’t have to say that…. _

“... Yeah?” He was smiling, but it wasn’t his all-too-common smirk.

Not sure how to respond, you just said, “You sound surprised.”

“That’s cuz I am.”

“Why?”

“Sweetheart, ya haven’t met a ton of other guys, so I don’ think you realize what a catch you are. If you had more options…” He trailed off, avoiding eye contact. So, despite his loud and exuberant nature, Sans was… insecure?

He was insecure.

“Look,” you said. “I think you are one of the most idiotic people I’ve ever met.” Starting it this way made you feel more comfortable.

He snickered, but it didn’t sound as happy as usual.

“But… you’re a funny idiot. And a nice idiot. And… you make me feel happy when you’re around.” You were avoiding eye contact. “It’s like, when you’re around, I… That’s all I need, is for you to be around. And I feel OK. And I feel safe.”

He looked over at you. You toyed with the fabric of your dress— a nervous motion, you supposed.

“And, quite frankly, I think that matters more than how smart you are.” You smiled. “You make me feel happy. That… matters more, I think.” You wouldn’t have thought so not long ago, but Sans, the moron that he was… had changed a lot of things for you.

He smiled and cupped your cheek, and you didn’t protest at the second kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut and you hummed quietly. You felt his free hand take yours, and you smiled.

“Well,” he said, “guess that answers some questions.”

You nodded. You were surprised to find that it felt like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“So, uh… what’re we gonna do about it?”

That was the harder part.

“Does your brother know?” you asked.

“Yeah. I told ‘im. He’s nice enough to let us see each other. But we need a plan.”

What were you supposed to say? He was right, but what kind of thing could you possibly—

“I, uh, have an idea. It’s kinda crazy, but it’s somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

After a moment of hesitation, he said, “You don’ wanna be in the mob.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, neither do I. ‘N neither does Paps.” Another pause. “So, I was thinkin’ that maybe… we could, uh… run away.”

You blinked.

“Sans,” you said, “are you  _ insane? _ ”

In a rare moment of assertion, he said, “Well, d’ya gotta better plan? Even if I magically convinced yer dad today that I’m husband material, we’d still be in the mob.”

That was true. And you didn’t exactly have a better plan. But…

“That would mean faking our own deaths,” you said, “right?”

“Yeah.”

You shook your head. “No. I… I know I complain about my parents but… they do care about me, in their own way. I couldn’t do that to them.” You shrugged. “And if things didn’t work out, I would have to go back to my parents, and somehow explain what happened. And even if it did work out, if someone found us—“

“No one’ll find us.”

You turned to him. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah I do. The, uh… means of escape… I’m thinkin’ of would make sure that we’d go somewhere nobody could find us. ‘N even if they knew where we were, there’s no way they’d be able to follow.”

What on Earth was he talking about? “What is this place?”

Suddenly he looked nervous. “Um… it’s complicated.”

“Well I’m not going if I don’t know the destination—“

“I understand that. I ain’t sayin’ you gotta go without knowing anythin’. Jus’... it’s not ready yet.”

“What?”

“The means of escape, it ain’t ready. But I think I’m close!”

Now he wasn’t making any sense. “I don’t understand.”

“I promise I’ll explain when I’ve gotten close enough. It’s just… It’ll sound insane without proof.”

That didn’t make you feel much better.

“Look, we don’t hafta decide that our plan is to run away. Not today, at least. But it’s the best plan I got.” He gestured to you. “You got a better plan?”

If it were plausible you would’ve said  _ “Convincing my father that I should marry you.” _

But that wasn’t plausible. At all.

So you said, “No.”

“OK. If ya can think of somethin’ better, by all means let me know. But fer now…”

He placed a hand on your shoulder with a smile.

“Let’s go on a date.”

Your face got hot. “I can’t do that right now.”

“No, sweetie, not right now. Next weekend. I c’n shortcut ya outside an’ we can go out for dinner.”

“Someone could see us,” you argued.

“Nah, they got private seating.” He squinted. “They might, uh, make assumptions about why we wanna be alone, but nobody’ll see.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of place is this?”

He laughed. “A fancy restaurant, sweetheart. I promise.”

Well, you’d never been on a date before…

You nodded. “Saturday?”

“Saturday,” he replied with a nod. “At eight?”

“Eight.”

One last kiss. You swore you were going to melt on the spot.

“Alright, sweetie. I’ll see you later.”

He planted a kiss on your forehead, winked, and then got up and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter felt good just because I hate when characters in a romance don't communicate, lol.
> 
> Another reminder that I have [a tumblr!](https://shyneanon.tumblr.com) I simp for skeletons on there, so check it out. :)


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